Zahn Und Klaue
by evolution-500
Summary: For years, Konrad Von Sabrewulf had traversed the globe in search of a cure for his illness. Following the discovery of a mysterious artifact, a spiralling staircase into madness starts to unfold before him. Enter the dark world of Killer Instinct where monsters have their day in no holds barred competition and witness the origins of the tournament and its denizens as never before.
1. Prologue

**Zahn und Klaue**

By evolution-500

 **Genres: Horror/Angst/Tragedy**

 **Feedback: Always welcome**

 **WARNING: This story contains violence, course language, disturbing themes and imagery. Reader discretion is advised.**

 **Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft. I do not own any of these characters.**

 **Notes: I've always been a fan of the Killer Instinct games, and for some time I've been wanting to do a proper KI-based story, but it's been difficult. Part of it had to do with finding an angle that justified and made sense of some of the craziness that happens within the games. The other part had to do with the 2013 game being developed seasonally; because of such an unusual development cycle, the game's story ended up suffering as a result, with barely any sort of cohesion or strong narrative. Some elements are brilliant, but others are either contradictory, real head-scratchers or just downright awful. For the purpose of this story and for the sake of simplicity, I'll be drawing from mainly KI1 and certain elements of the 2013 game as well, although some slight liberties will be taken in order to reconcile the two. Also, I want to give a shout-out to Star Aquarius, H.R.C. Stanley, Baniac, lulgijak and 10868letsgo for their help - thank you guys so much! I hope you enjoy! ;)**

 **Prologue:**

 **" _At the midpoint on the journey of life, I found myself in a dark forest, for the clear path was lost."_** \- Canto One, "Dante's Inferno" by Dante Alighieri

The night howled against the thick walls of the castle, calling for its occupant.

A figure sat alone at a table, humming aloud as he studied the sheet music in front of him, putting the notes of the tune down onto paper with his pencil. Pausing in his song, he muttered aloud, then tried humming again. Letting out a frustrated growl, the figure released a slew of angry curses in irritation as he erased his error, starting back from the beginning until he worked his way to where he left off.

Two unlit chandeliers hung uselessly overhead, periodically creaking.

Behind him, a sandstone hearth roared and crackled noisily, pouring out its dim light across the ochre stone floor. The sole source of light in the entire room, it illuminated his back as he worked, the orangish hue painting the rest of his environment unnoticed.

The ochre color of the floor extended upward to a pair of marble Roman Tuscan columns with smooth shafts and the burning hearth between them, their capitals connecting up to the castle's Gothic rib-like arches. The arches themselves rested against smooth concrete white walls that were disfigured and cracked from age at the top and bottom corners, resembling the decaying hide of an animal. Two feet over the mantel hung a brown clock with two pairs of ornamental bat wings protruding from the top and bottom corners, the clock ticking and winding down. At the left hand corner hung a shield with a pair of crossed sabres, while a self-portrait of Rembrandt watched directly over the figure with keen interest as he worked in the right hand corner.

The sounds of the wind, the clock's ticking, the crackling of the fireplace, the squeaky hinges of the chandeliers mixed with his tune as he put pen to paper.

He paused as the shrill maniacal laugh came again from upstairs.

Tightening his fingers around his pencil, he tried to ignore it, but like the wind outside, the laughter was just as unrelenting, cruel and pitiless, rising and falling, grating on his nerves.

Humming again, he slowly ran his hand through his hair, refraining himself from pulling it out, but as the laugh continued to sound off, the louder he became until he snapped; grabbing an empty wine glass from his desk, he chucked it to the ceiling, smashing it hard against its surface.

 _"SHUT UP!"_ he shrieked as glass rained down onto the fancy rug next to him.

For a moment, the laughter stopped, but then picked up again in a soft tormenting chuckle.

His hands traveled to his scalp, grabbing handfuls of hair in exasperation before doubling over, clutching his ears as he was assaulted by the awful sound. Pulling his hands away from his head, the figure hastily grabbed for the cloak that hung from the chair and headed straight out the door as the laugh redoubled in its intensity.

* * *

Ravensburg, 2013, 6 a.m.

"Checkmate."

Konrad angrily lashed out from the seat of his wheelchair, throwing the chess board from the desk in front of him, spilling the various pieces across the carpeted floor.

"That wasn't very nice," ARIA replied from the speaker on his phone.

"Yeah?" Konrad growled, "Well, fuck nice."

His ears perked as someone knocked at the door.

"Come in," he ordered.

The door opened, revealing his faithful servant and long-time friend Jurgen, a tall, broad-shouldered man ten years his senior with thick grey bushy hair, his strong face marked with slight crow's nests at the corners of his gentle eyes, his sturdy form dressed in a fancy black suit.

"Is everything alright, Herr Baron?" he asked with concern in German, then cast his glance to the fallen chess pieces, "I take it you've lost another game with ARIA."

When his employer didn't respond, Jurgen continued to speak.

"I can't say I blame you, sir - ARIA is a bitch when it comes to competition. I've had half a mind to smash her servers on many occasions!" he laughed.

Upon being met with silence once again, Jurgen cleared his throat nervously. "But it's as the saying goes, Herr Konrad - 'you win some, you lose some.'"

Konrad scoffed.

"'Win _some'?_ I just want to win at least _once_. At least for once in my life I want to feel like I'm not perpetually losing," he said lowly, his voice tinged with raw bitterness.

"Oh come now."

"Don't patronize me."

"I'm not, mein freund," Jurgen raised his hands placatingly. "I can scarcely think of many people who could say that they're heir to a family fortune, let alone graduated from the University of Munich with honors at a young age in business. Hell, how many graduated university or high school at all? How many could say that they're nobility, own a castle, and have ties to numerous governments across the globe? How many could say that they own a conglomeration as massive and extensive as yours? I can't even recall anyone or anything out there with the number of subsidiaries that you have, let alone had the amount of influence that you wield to this day. Who could possibly say proudly "I am the CEO of Ultratech" other than you? You made Ultratech possible, and because of that, to paraphrase Shakespeare, the world is now your oyster. That's not what I would call a loser."

Konrad lowered his head thoughtfully.

"You were always good at saying things that please me," he said with a tiny amount of amusement, then nodded. "It's true, few could claim to have achieved the level of success that I have had in a single life time."

His hand reached upward, his gloved fingers tracing along the fabric of the hood.

"However," he continued, all traces of humor dropped from his voice, "I have the perfect counterargument."

Pulling down his hood from the back of his head, Konrad watched as the man shifted in discomfort from the sight of his face.

"What's the matter, Jurgen? Nothing else to add? Come on, Jurgen, kiss my ass some more." Konrad seethed. "Say something about my good looks!"

No response came. Shaking his head in disgust, Konrad raised his hood back up. "Thought as much."

"A cure will be found, Herr Konrad."

"When?!" Konrad demanded, his voice becoming louder with word spewing from his mouth, "I've spent my entire life trying to find it. I'm almost fifty years old. Fifty! Do you have any idea what I have lost?! What I stand to lose as this..." he paused, then gestured furiously to his face, " _this_ continues?!"

"Yes, yes, I know too well, old friend, but you need to keep your spirits up, sir," he replied cheerfully. "There's no point in dwelling on dark thoughts, you'll only make yourself feel worse. You just need to find something to keep yourself busy. Idle hands are the devil's playthings, as the saying goes, and that is also why you need to lay off the games with ARIA."

Konrad growled in annoyance.

"I'm serious, Herr Konrad," said Jurgen. "Your time is far too valuable to be wasted on such childish activities. Why do you continue doing this to yourself when you should be-"

"Do not lecture me on my priorities!" Konrad interrupted, snarling out the words, causing the servant to stiffen. He resumed talking in a normal voice.

"As it so happens, I was fulfilling my duties to her. She's a multitasking AI, Jurgen. The "Advanced Robotics Intelligence Architecture"," he replied, using air quotes in mockery. "Part of the stipulations from that crazy old bat Ryat Adams involves playing games with this piece of junk to help test and improve her systems through her understanding of game theory."

Jurgen gave him a disapproving look. "It's disrespectful to talk ill of the dead like that."

"Yeah? Well, he's dead. His troubles are over, mine aren't. Fuck him."

"Herr Baron!" Jurgen scowled.

"What?!" Konrad demanded. "I never met the man, let alone knew him. He died in 1981, for god's sake, why should I treat him with reverence? If it hadn't been for the fact that I wanted to purchase his nuclear power company I wouldn't have heard of him or this...irritation. You know why I have to put up with this day after day? The senile old fart believed that ARIA would "change the world" and that it would save his wife from whatever ailment she had at the time. Fah! Fat lot it did him! I reckon that the death of his wife caused Ryat to crack, otherwise he wouldn't have included ARIA in his will and set such bizarre terms and conditions. If it weren't for that, I'd have sooner tossed it into the trash where it belongs."

"But surely ARIA can be used to help figure out your condition, maybe provide a treatment-"

"ARIA is worthless." Konrad interrupted. "Nothing more than a bothersome obligation by a sentimental, idealistic, broken old man with delusions of grandeur. He relied on ARIA to help him with his wife. She failed him. He wants her to "save the world", and I'm not going to even comment on the ludicrousness of that. I'll honor the terms of his will, but I'm not going to make the same mistake as him and rely on this junky piece of shit."

There was a long moment of silence in the dimly lit office.

"Was there anything else?" he demanded.

Jurgen cleared his throat.

"Ja, you wanted me to remind you of your 9 a.m. appointment."

"Ah Christ," Konrad swore, pinching the bridge of his nose. "I've forgotten all about that. Which appointment was it?"

"It's the meeting with the other Board members, Mr. Chairman." ARIA said from the speaker, startling both men. Konrad hated how ARIA sometimes did that. The idea of an AI listening in and talking like an actual person in the room was very disconcerting at times. Konrad wondered if ARIA had heard what he had said about her. If she had, she gave no indication of having done so. He reminded himself to make sure when speaking to someone that ARIA's microphone and speaker were turned off.

"Ja, ja, thank you, ARIA," Konrad replied, nodding in acknowledgement, "I'll vid-screen them."

"I wouldn't recommend that, Mr. Chairman. Your presence is needed in order to sign some legal documents."

"I have someplace to get to urgently, ARIA." he said, grabbing a scarf and a pair of thick sunglasses from his desk.

"Where?" the AI inquired.

"It's business-related," Konrad replied as he secured each article of clothing around his features, making sure nothing of his face was visible. "Tell the Board members and the lawyers that I won't be able to attend in person, that I'll vid-screen them and come down later to sign whatever needs signing. What is the rest of my schedule?"

Jurgen took a black leather day timer out from his pocket.

"Eh, you have a meeting with Dr. Gupte, followed by four hours of workout, karate and capoeira with your trainer Tyler Zhou back here at the castle." he read.

"Uhhh," Konrad groaned. "The man's a bloody sadist."

Jurgen tsked, "Now, now, Herr Konrad. I know you're not crazy about him, but you have been putting on some weight lately."

Konrad glared at him.

"And what do you mean by that?" he demanded.

The servant hesitated.

"Well," he said slowly trying to find the right words, "...for your age and height, your weight isn't...ideal."

The hooded figure tensed. "I'm five-eleven."

"Even so, four hundred pounds is...excessive."

"I liked you better when you were being an obsequious little shit." he grumbled.

Jurgen gave a short laugh. It was to his credit that he was able to put up with Konrad's antics throughout the years. If it hadn't been for the fact that Jurgen and his family had long served the Sabrewulf household for generations and were steadfast in their loyalty, Konrad wouldn't have tolerated him and his remarks, let alone grant him power of attorney. It also explained why Jurgen was so patient with him, even at his worst.

Konrad rolled the wheel chair out from his office, then waited as Jurgen locked up behind him. Pulling a cellphone out from his pocket, Konrad dialed a number and placed it to his ear.

"Dieter, tell Heinrich, Michael and the others to get the car ready as soon as possible, we're going to Austria," he said as Jurgen wheeled him down the vast hallways and corridors, then hung up and put it away once he was finished.

"What's in Austria, Herr Baron?" Jurgen asked as he wheeled him throughout the mansion.

"I got a tip-off from a source that there's going to be an auction," Konrad replied.

"Ah hell, not another one!" the servant muttered.

"Yes thank you, Jurgen," Konrad said, trying to keep hold of his temper.

"And what is it that you hope to find?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know," Jurgen repeated, nodding sarcastically. "Well, that's great. That's very helpful."

"You don't approve."

"You know I don't, Herr Baron. We've been through this hundreds of times already."

"And you should know by now that arguing with me is hopeless."

"Herr Baron," Jurgen said quietly, "do I have to remind you of all the times throughout the years we sought out every madman and auction we could find claiming to be in possession of some "mystical" artifact or powers of healing?""

"Jurgen," Konrad growled in warning.

"Do I need to remind you of the vast fortune you spent on the damn things, how the majority of them turned out to be fakes and how it very nearly bankrupted you?"

"Jurgen," Konrad repeated sternly.

"How we'd struggle trying to convince museums to take some of these things in in order to get you tax credits, even when they themselves knew they weren't real?"

"Jurgen!"

"And how we'd have to pay some of those snot-nosed pricks off to get them to accept, rig the tests or keep them from talking?" Jurgen said over the Baron's protests in hushed conversation. "Come on, man, wake up! Enough is enough already."

The two men were silent for a moment as they wheeled though the hallway, the air filled with tension.

"Herr Konrad, you should know that nothing will come from this," the servant said. "There is no such thing as magic."

"What do I look like, some naïve schoolboy? I know that magic isn't real, Blödmann! And yes, Jurgen, I haven't forgotten about my past failures. How can I? I still remember the various shitty herbal teas, the disgusting foods that made me vomit along with the crackpot ceremonies and exorcisms. I still haven't forgotten about that bloody white shaman idiot that had bedecked me in that fucking feather headdress! Dieter still has pictures of that on his cell phone. It's only from the grace of God and a very big cheque book that I was able to keep a lid on this."

"Then why do you continue with this occult crap?!"

Konrad was quiet for a moment, then lifted his head.

"Is it too much for a man in my condition to have hope?" he asked quietly. "To believe that there may be a way? Even an unconventional one?"

"And that is exactly what has me worried, Herr Baron," he said. "These maggots feed on people like you, people that are desperate and vulnerable ."

"Well thank you for that vote of confidence, Jurgen!" Konrad snapped.

"Herr Baron, I know how these shitheads work. They're grubby little parasites - fucking people over is an art form and a lucrative business for them, and once they've latched on they'll suck you dry. What's worse is that not only do you continue to take punishment time after time, but you're only too happy to oblige. It nearly ruined you, Herr Baron."

"I know that!"

It was partially why he had decided go into business and form Ultratech in the first place; by having a better understanding of the law, he could find ways to generate income through legal means, and with his numerous contacts and dividends at hand, Konrad was able to achieve a solid and sustainable safety net for himself.

Jurgen sighed.

"Look, you and I have been friends for years, Herr Konrad. I hate seeing a friend being taken advantage of, but it also turns my stomach when he's as self-destructive as you are. What makes this source of yours more reliable than the other losers?"

"He's the one who gave me my voice back."

Hearing that made the servant stiffen.

"You disapprove of him," Konrad said.

" _Him_ especially!" Jurgen said lowly and viciously. "The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end just from mentioning that...cretin! He is the worst of the lot, a practiced veteran in the art of fucking people over that also believes in the bullshit he's selling. To be quite honest with you, Herr Baron, I would not be surprised if that man had skeletons in his closet. Real ones, too."

"I didn't realize that a mere peddler can get under your skin."

"Frankly I don't know how he hasn't gotten under yours, Herr Baron - the man's a freak. Everything about him is warped - his _eyes_ , his _skin_ , that _smell_ , that _look_ he gives when he _smiles_..."

He shuddered.

"I can't stand him. The man's a freak, I tell you, a bonafide freak," he said.

"A _freak_ that helped another _freak_ get his voice back!" Konrad said with a snarl as he looked over his shoulder, causing Jurgen to stop wheeling him.

"You cannot know what it is like to live with the fear that everyday spells the promise of no tomorrow, that everyday some part of you will die and you wouldn't know it," he said.

Jurgen listened, not muttering a sound.

"It is an insidious thing, this condition," Konrad said. "It robs you of everything that defines you as you...and just when you think things couldn't possibly get any worse...well, it continues to surprise and defy expectations."

Taking the subsequent silence as a cue to move forward, Jurgen continued maneuvering the wheel chair down the various corridors and hallways until they finally approached the top of the stairs.

"I've seen this happen to my father," Konrad said, causing the servant to stop in his tracks. "We've both had, do you remember?"

"I tried many times not to," Jurgen replied flatly.

"I was only fifteen when it took him," he said. "I still remember how after he had lost his voice, he wasn't the same."

Konrad shook his head, "Not anymore. The man was gone, long gone. What was left behind was an empty shell. He had to be chained like an animal in the old dungeon in the basement until the day he-"

He stopped, the words leaving him.

Jurgen placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, then gave a strong pat.

Taking a moment to recover, Konrad raised a hand up to his face, then glanced briefly in the servant's direction.

"I have reservations about the man myself, Jurgen. _Very_ strong reservations. But he helped me gain back some of my...humanity. Because of what he did, I trust him when he says that there might be something at that auction of value, that could potentially help me."

"And what if there isn't?" Jurgen demanded.

Konrad looked down as the duo made their descent down the stairs. "Then once again the joke will be on me, as always."


	2. Chapter One: The Auction

**Chapter One: The Auction**

 ** _"The will to win, the desire to succeed, the urge to reach your full potential...these are the keys that will unlock the door to personal excellence."_ **\- Confucius

Konrad drummed his gloved fingers against the car door of the stretch limo, staring through the tinted window at other passing vehicles in thoughtful silence.

How long had it been since he went outside in the sun? How long had it been since he just decided to go for a drive, let alone take a walk, just for the pleasure of being able to go anywhere he wanted?

 _'Must have been close to twenty years,'_ he thought wistfully.

As an expensive Jaguar passed, a sudden feeling of nostalgia swept over him.

He remembered how in his youth he was a dashing and impetuous teenager, taking his father's cars out for a drive through Ravensburg, much to the chagrin of Jurgen's father.*

He vividly recalled how as a boy he used to love playing hide and seek in the forest with Jurgen.

Since the worsening of his condition, however, Konrad found himself a prisoner in his own home, unable to go outside for fear of being spotted and photographed. Even though the castle was isolated, with no neighbouring houses or villages for miles, surrounded by mountains and forests, he could never channel the courage to take a stroll through the woods. Hell, he couldn't even bring himself to step out into his back garden for fear of stumbling upon some nosy villager, reporter or some damn guard on patrol.

 _'How ironic,'_ Konrad thought bitterly.

His castle mansion was renowned for having the best security systems money could buy, perfect for keeping everyone out, but the very same security systems and personnel prevented Konrad from doing the very things he longed for, keeping him confined to both the damn wheel chair and to certain sections inside the mansion itself, further entrenching those feelings of being a prisoner.

He used to love playing hide and seek as a child. How like Fate to take the thing he loved and make it into something he hated; all he ever did nowadays was hide.

"Is everything alright, Herr Baron?" his chauffeur Heinrich, a blonde man in an old fashioned uniform complete with breeches, a black double-breasted coat and matching chauffeur cap, asked in German.

Konrad grunted.

"Just wondering."

"About what, sir?"

"Time, Heinrich," he sighed. "Time, and where it all went."

His chauffeur quietly digested what was said.

Beside Konrad sat his three bodyguards Lawrence, Michael, and Roger. Dressed in black with their eyes concealed by reflector sunglasses, the men looked like they were carved from stone.

Opposite Konrad sat his loyal right-hand man, friend, and bodyguard Dieter, a slim but tall American of indeterminate age with dark slicked-back hair, dressed in a grey suit with matching overcoat, black sunglasses, shirt, tie and shoes, silently brushing his equally grey broad brimmed fedora. A habitual gambler and womanizer, Dieter had first met Konrad at Las Vegas when he was in his twenties. The former had intervened on the latter's behalf by exposing the dodgy tactics of certain casino players, resulting in the Baron not only getting his money back but also said-players being permanently banned. Unfortunately, the people called out took issue with Dieter's interference and had decided to repay him by ambushing him in a parking lot late at night when no one was around. It was only through Konrad's intervention that he was able to survive the experience. Since then, the two became inseparable.

Overhead, hovercars buzzed around noisily like giant flies.

"You do realize that if we had one of those we could have gotten from Ravensburg to Austria in less than 5 hours, sir?" Heinrich said, gesturing to the vehicles flying above.

"Hover cars require a pilot's license, Heinrich, which you don't have." Konrad explained. "Even more, if we were to get into an accident, chances are more than likely that we wouldn't survive."

"Bah, I could ace that test, no problem!" he proclaimed.

"You're barely tolerable even on the ground," Konrad said humorously as he pulled a laptop from a bag next to his bodyguard Michael.

Heinrich smirked.

"Everyone be quiet, the meeting is about to begin," Konrad said in English and German as he set up the computer on his lap. Once he had Internet connection, he thoroughly checked his security and encryption settings, then the firewall, making certain that everything was in working order and that nothing allowed for some little shithead hacker to get into his system, let alone his corporation's. The last thing he wanted was for some rival or whoever to broadcast this meeting to the rest of the world. Once he was satisfied, Konrad taped a small piece of cloth over the laptop's camera at the top of the monitor, then activated the vid-screen, watching the monitor as it flickered, revealing a group of men and women in a white room surrounding a massive oval table.

"Ah, Guttentag, mein freunds!" Konrad greeted.

"Good morning, Mr. Chairman," everyone greeted from the screen.

"Is everyone here?" he asked in English. "I can see the windows for Cairo, Britain, Spain, Sweden, Russia, our American friends, but I don't see some of the other branches. Oh, there's Mexico and the South American branch. Africa's now arrived, but where's Tokyo and Hong-ah! There they are. Good to see you, gentlemen."

"Ah, Mr. Chairman!" a familiar low voice with a crisp Queen's English accent said through the speaker.

Konrad glanced back to the main window as David Kellog, Chief Operating Officer of Ultratech, entered the room smiling at the screen, "I am so glad to hear from you!"

A partially bald, eagle-faced man dressed in a nice navy suit, even on a tiny screen monitor Konrad could tell how fake the little bastard was.

 _'I hope you get piles,'_ he thought venomously. _'Big, lumpy melons dangling from your ass!'_

"David!" he greeted in a cheerful and enthusiastic tone. "My goodness, it's been such a long time! How's the family?"

David laughed.

"Yes, everything is well, thank you!"

"I understand your son has managed to become a successful millionaire already! A YouTuber, if I'm not mistaken?"

David nodded, looking a little uncomfortable.

"Yes. Well, not something I'd have chosen for him personally, but he's managed to make ten million dollars by playing the horror competitive shooter "Forever Nights" in less than a month."

 _'I REALLY hope you get piles,'_ Konrad thought nastily.

"He's on the leadership boards as we speak. Before that he had made only two million."

 _'Oh fuck off!'_ Konrad thought. _'I hope you, your two-faced bitch of a wife Janet and that creepy cross-eyed brat of yours all get horribly sick and die.'_

"The only thing stopping my boy from earning 50 million is A Dead Rat."

Konrad raised a brow, then looked to the other people in the stretch limo questioningly in puzzlement, wondering if they knew what the man was talking about. All gave him equally perplexed looks, with Dieter shrugging.

"I beg your pardon?" he asked, uncertain if he had heard correctly.

"That's the user name of the top player - "A Dead Rat"," David explained. "He's always one step ahead."

"Ah. Well, such is the way of the world," Konrad replied.

"Unfortunately." David agreed. "By the way, we seem to be having some issues with your video feed."

"What do you mean?"

"We can hear you, but you're not showing up on the monitor."

"Bah, the camera's busted," Konrad lied.

"Do you need help? I can get someone on the line from the IT department to come figure out-"

"Nein, nein. No need." He interrupted, watching as Kellog stared hard at the monitor.

"Are you communicating on a secure channel?" he asked with concern.

"I'm not stupid, David," Konrad said with irritation. "I may have been ill, but I'm not invalid."

David bowed his head.

"I apologise, Mr. Chairman. " he replied. "May I reiterate on the behalf of Ultratech how good it is to finally hear your voice again after all this time. Last we heard about your condition you had lost your voice, hadn't you?"

Konrad shifted in discomfort.

"I had...for some months." he answered. "But...with a little help I managed to get it back quite recently."

"Splendid!" David exclaimed with a forced smile. "Hopefully this will be one of many stepping stones towards your full recovery."

 _'Go fuck yourself,'_ Konrad thought as the bald prick picked up a stack of papers on the desk in front of him.

"Before we start, I want to remind everyone to have all cellphones and pagers turned off immediately. I cannot stress enough the importance of confidentiality and the sensitive nature of our work; just last week some half-wit over at Charleton Industries accidentally broadcasted to the rest of the world delicate and compromising company information. Great news for us," he said with a smile as a few Board members laughed. "But not so great for the fool responsible."

The smile dropped instantly.

"We cannot afford such screw-ups. I'll give you all a moment for you to do what needs to be done."

Konrad looked to everyone in the limousine, then nodded, watching as they all took out their cellphones and shut them down.

"Now, ladies and gentlemen," David said as he put on his spectacles, handing several sheets to the rest of the table, "if no one has anything to say or announce, we'll start reviewing today's agenda - we have a lot of material to get through. We'll start off with the Applied Sciences/Research and Development, then follow that up with Finances, and then Entertainment. Our first item concerns the UA-CCIX "Kilgore" heavy assault android unit. As all of you may know, the project's leader Dr. Kilgore was killed while they were running diagnostic tests on its chaingun forearms. Due to the hazardous nature of the machine, the project has been put on hold until further notice."

"Can anyone explain why those are even a feature?" One of the women asked.

"Mjolnir Initiative guidelines," David explained.

"Mjolnir Initiative?" she repeated.

Konrad rolled his eyes while David frowned in her direction.

"You'll have to forgive Carol, Mr. Kellog," a man said beside her. "She's new here. She's from Finances."

He nodded in understanding.

"In that case, Carol, I'll give you a very quick and brief history lesson. In order to understand this curious design, you have to appreciate the decisions that led up to that point. Combat androids have been around since the early 2000s. Nimble and efficient in both armed and unarmed combat, they proved to be of tremendous value to militaries around the globe."

"Quick and brief, David," Konrad reminded impatiently.

"Unfortunately, it had been found that various militias, terrorist organizations and guerilla groups would intentionally target them in order to gain access to the firearms that they were supplied with, which in turn caused quite a stir among the public."

"Oh dear."

"Yes," David nodded, "and since nobody at the company wants to be accused of supplying these groups, an executive decision was made. Thus, the Mjolnir Initiative was decreed, the purpose being to create combat androids with built-in weaponry that would inconvenience the enemy and prevent the potential armament of such organizations, which is why current android models have such unique features such as firearms mounted on the forelimbs, self-destruct mechanisms, laser weaponry from the eyes with modular settings that ranged from stun to causing severe burns..."

"Ahh, now I see." said Carol.

"Can we get back to the issue at hand, please?" Konrad demanded. "We're wasting very valuable time."

"Yes, Mr. Chairman."

"Now, this Kilgore android, what's wrong with it exactly?" one of the Board members asked.

"It suffers from a severe overheating issue that causes it to catch fire due to its archaic combustion engine," a woman from the R and D Department explained.

"Are we liable for a potential lawsuit?" Konrad asked.

"Fortunately no, Mr. Chairman," David responded. "We've had our legal department review all of the data concerning Dr. Kilgore and the incident itself. From all indications, he was the one at fault, not us. The man had recklessly disregarded protocol - he had already been warned several times regarding the dangers of running diagnostics with live ammunition. Hell, we had to revoke his security clearance because of the man's erratic behavior."

"If his clearance had been revoked," Konrad said slowly, "then why is he dead? How did he get in?"

"Apparently he had stolen an intern's ID card."

"Ah. I suppose that compensation has been issued to Kilgore's family?" Konrad asked concernedly.

"Well, yes," David answered, "although I'd say it's too generous."

 _'Always were a class-act, weren't you, David?'_ Konrad thought with contempt. "What's the status of the machine?"

"As of this moment it's been secured in storage," said the woman from R and D.

"Why don't we replace the engine?"

"We could try to, but in all honesty it would only incur further expenses, especially if we were to find the appropriate engines that can guarantee better performance."

"Is the project salvageable at all?" Konrad asked.

The woman sighed.

"In my honest opinion, no."

"There's no way we can still use the Kilgore android?"

"Not unless you want the machines to explode and have a mountain of lawsuits filed against you by grieving soldiers' families, Mr. Chairman."

Konrad blinked.

"What do you mean by "machines"? How many units were built?"

"A few hundred."

Konrad tightened his gloved hands into fists, resisting the urge to punch through the monitor. As the leather tightened around his knuckles, he growled.

He watched as the people on the screen glanced to one another questioningly.

"Where's that coming from?"

"Whose dog is that?!"

"Is that from your end?"

"My end? I don't have a dog!"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Chairman, but someone's pet seems to have snuck into where they are and is now growling into the microphone," David explained.

"I have ears, David!" Konrad snapped.

Inhaling through his nostrils, he got his temper down as best he could.

"Whoever that is," he said with clenched teeth, "take your pet out of the room. If it's not someone's pet, then please shut down whatever TV set, YouTube video, phone or sound effects board you are watching. This is a business meeting, not the Discovery Channel."

Once everyone settled down, David looked into the screen.

"I am so sorry about that Mr. Chairman," he said.

"Let's just continue."

David bent his head down in embarrassment.

"Can someone tell me how it's possible that a hundred units were even made when we're still trying to build _one_ working prototype?" Konrad muttered.

"The others were outsourced and mass manufactured by a company in India at reduced costs."

"One of our shell companies?"

"Naturally."

Konrad sighed. Perhaps the damage wouldn't be as bad as he thought.

"How much is this going to cost us?"

Mitchel Sacket, the Chief Financial Officer, spoke from the corner, "We're still running the numbers, but our best estimates are in the low ten million range, if not less."

Damn. Even though the worst case scenario was only a few million, Konrad was still annoyed at such a loss. Every bit of currency mattered, especially for him. What especially annoyed him, though, was that this fuckup was allowed to even happen in the first place. Someone should have caught on, and he didn't know whether to pin it entirely on Kilgore or not. He mentally reminded himself to review the data concerning personnel later. Someone was going to be fired.

"How would you like to proceed, Mr. Chairman?" David asked.

He thought for a moment.

"We scrap the project," Konrad decided. "Decommission the units and send all but one to the scrapheap."

"Why do you want to save one?"

Konrad shrugged.

"I like to think there's something of potential value that we might learn from for reference in future combat models."

"And if it doesn't?"

"Then we'll have another piece to add to Ultratech's museum collection, something to honor Kilgore's memory." Konrad said thoughtfully. "Personally, I think it would look nice somewhere next to the decommissioned Hercules combat mech."

"We'll put it to a vote. All those in favor of the Chairman's proposition?" David asked.

Everyone raised their hands.

"All against?"

No one opposed.

"Very well," David said, "although we'll still need to find something to fill that void left behind by the Kilgore project."

"All in good time, David. We'll discuss the possibilities during our next meeting," Konrad replied.

David looked back to the list.

"As you wish. Moving on, item two. It's been brought to my attention, Mr. Chairman, that you've seconded one of our geneticists, one Dr. Erin Gupte, along with vast amounts of lab equipment and personnel to your home, among other things."

"Indeed. I have been making alterations to my castle to best accommodate them."

"May I ask why?"

"Due to the sensitive nature of their work along with there being evidence of a possible mole, I felt it best to have them kept under close observation by my men and by myself personally."

"Oh for goodness sake, Konrad, you're not on that again!"

"Someone had been close to transmitting information about those clinical trials in hair products to an encrypted outside source."

"And we caught the one responsible!" David protested. "We had him arrested and tried."

"Yes, but until we know for certain that he had no accomplice, I'm not going to risk it." Konrad said firmly.

 _'That, plus it would allow me to use my company's resources in treating my condition,'_ he thought.

He watched as David's lips tensed.

"Fine," he answered. Konrad's ears twitched as he heard the man mutter about him being paranoid.

"Moving on, item three concerns cybernetic implants. I'll let Director Cho fill you all in on the details. Take it way, Sean."

* * *

Thirty minutes later...

"And finally, Mr. Chairman, our last item concerns your...program," David said in distaste.

Konrad sighed.

As a young man, Konrad vigorously exercised both his body and mind in the hopes of staving off his condition. At the recommendation of Jurgen, he took up martial arts, studying boxing, karate and capoeira. However, as he got better in martial arts, the more competitive Konrad became. The more he practiced, the more he craved the opportunity to fight a worthy opponent, for there was something empowering in using his own body as a weapon and moving it in ways one would have never anticipated. He remembered the raw satisfaction he had felt when he did his first cartwheel, the elation he had experienced when he did his first backspin, and the joy of his first somersault. Even greater was the sensation he had experienced when he used this knowledge to win a fight, in being able to outmatch, outsmart and overpower an opponent.

He felt free in a way he never had experienced before.

Free from his worries, free from the laws of gravity.

He felt superhuman.

Even more, he felt happy.

However, happiness came at a price. Even though he had participated in numerous martial arts competitions, winning a number of gold trophies, much to his satisfaction, he couldn't get enough of it. Whether it was due to the competitive streak, an addictive personality, some atavistic part of him brought out by his affliction, his ego or something else altogether, Konrad sought competition wherever he could find it, often in seedy underground fight clubs and street fights. When images of him cropped up on the internet, problems started to emerge for Konrad.

* * *

 _1994_

 _"Do you realize what this could mean for the company?" David said to Konrad in his office at the time._

 _"Oh come on, David."_

 _"Don't "come on David" me, Konrad, there are photos of you in that fight club online! Even more, there are videos of you!"_

 _"And if you look carefully they also have photos and videos of Michael Jackson doing the foxtrot with George Bush and a skunk, along with videos of Jean Claude Van Damme in bed with a goat on Mars. So what?"_

 _""So what"?! Konrad, criminal charges could be filed!"_

 _"For what? I haven't done anything wrong. Really, David, you shouldn't believe everything you hear on the internet. There is such a thing as "Photoshop", "photo manipulation", "3d animation" and "video editing software"."_

 _"Konrad, I know all about your little dalliances with those types of places, so let's cut the bullshit, alright?" David said sternly. "The only reason why I don't report you to the authorities is because we have been friends for a long time. If you continue with this, I won't be able to protect you from the potential scandal this will spell for you and the company. The Board of Directors will not take kindly to the notion that the CEO is a pugilist thug and will vote you off. I advise you to think long and hard."_

 _Konrad was silent for a moment, then lifted his eyes to his._

 _"Is that all?" he asked quietly._

 _"Yes."_

 _"Good," Konrad whispered, then slowly started to raise his voice. "Because I want to let you know, David, that I don't take kindly to threats. How dare you insult me, ME, Baron Konrad Von Sabrewulf, of something so common and unbecoming of my character and rank?! If it wasn't for the fact that we're friends I'd not only fire you from MY company and sue you for every miserable cent that you have for these grotesque and slanderous allegations, but I'd also ensure that nobody would ever hire you again due to the muck on your reputation! Two can play this game, David, and between us I think you know who the clear winner is going to be. Don't. Fuck. With. Me."_

 _"You're not the only one with friends," David growled._

 _"Not in the high places as I do. One thing you fail to understand is that when you get into a fight with a member of the Sabrewulf family, you better be prepared for a fight, because a Sabrewulf will go after you with everything they got to the bitter end no matter the odds, tooth and claw. That has been the family motto and way since the Middle Ages, David, and will continue to be with my dying breath - "Tooth and claw", mein freund. Tooth and fucking claw," he spat._

 _The two men stared each other down, their jaws tightened and eyes narrowed._

 _"You want an answer? You'll get one," Konrad said. "Tomorrow I'll issue a press conference to address these foul rumors, now get out of my home, I'm going to call my attorney to fill him in on the details of what is actually going on."_

 _David stormed off as Konrad picked up the phone on his desk._

* * *

Through his various connections, Konrad was able to quash the allegations made against him. Realizing the potential danger of being discovered again, the potential for blackmail and the very real possibility of his not being so lucky a second time round with the law, he had racked his brain for an answer when he had an epiphany. Thus, the Killer Instinct tournament was born, a no-holds-barred martial arts pay-per-view program that was both televised and streamed live on the internet, personally established, hosted and indulged by Konrad himself. That was, until his condition started to manifest itself more prominently in his mid-thirties/early forties, at which point he had to pass off his responsibilities as host to another.

"What do you wish to discuss about the program, David?" Konrad asked.

"As you are aware, ratings haven't exactly been stellar these last few months, and with the copyright expiration date coming up, the Board members and I are wondering what to expect," he explained. "Should we file for a renewal at the Copyright Office, or is this a dead duck?"

"I suggest we wait until the results come in," Konrad answered. He then smirked. "We have planned a very special final episode for this season tonight that will knock the ratings board out of the park."

"Oh good. Care to fill us in?"

"I'd prefer to not spoil the surprise," he teased. "I'm keeping it close to the chest, as you say."

"Mr. Chairman," David said impatiently. "Now isn't the time for games."

"Calm yourself, mein freund. I'm well aware of the consequences should it not pan out. All I ask is for the Board's continued patience and for you all to see the program at nine o'clock tonight."

He heard murmurs throughout the room on his laptop.

"Very well, and that concludes our meeting, ladies and gentlemen. We'll send you all an email confirming the next appointment date, and if it doesn't fit with any of your schedules please let us know so that we can best accommodate you," David said. "Have a good day, everyone."

Konrad deactivated everything, then shut down his monitor. Closing it on his lap, he looked to the others.

"So, gentlemen, what did you think?" he asked.

"Meh, I wasn't paying attention for the most part," Dieter admitted, "although that bit about how his kid was making millions off of video games kind of makes me sick to think about."

The other men grunted in agreement.

"Does it make you want a career change? Just think, Dieter, all you'd have to do is sit on your ass all day and twiddle your thumbs on a thumbstick. The only downside is that you'll have to compete with "A Dead Rat"." Konrad said amusedly.

Dieter tilted his head in mock contemplation.

"Hn, that is quite the dilemma. You've really put me in a tight spot, Baron. Decisions, decisions." he said, then shrugged. "Fuck it, I think I'll stick with the dog I know."

Konrad glared as he and the other men laughed, but let the remark slide.

"It's not "dog"," he corrected bitterly. "It's "devil"."

* * *

The stretch limousine stopped in front of the auction house. People watched nonchalantly as the driver stepped out from the vehicle along with four other men from the back, walked over to the rear and opened the trunk, removing a collapsible wheel chair from within. Once the chair was set up, they rolled it to the right toward the passenger section at the back facing the auction house itself, then opened the car door. The men reached in and carefully carried out the sixth figure from the limo, a strange person with a short though wide frame. Clad in a long black overcoat, the person's features were concealed beneath a hood, a pair of sunglasses and a scarf, while a blanket was draped around his legs and feet. Grunting with exertion, the men plopped him into the wheel chair, then straightened themselves up.

"I'll pick you up when you finished, Herr Konrad," the driver called as the four men wheeled him up the ramp and into the auction house.

* * *

Inside people conversed and laughed amongst themselves while being served drinks by service androids as the strange group entered the large hallway, briefly stopping to cast odd glances at the cloaked wheelchair-bound figure. Rounding to the left, the men entered the auditorium, the sounds of conversation cacophonous, echoing off the walls. A small dog that was sitting contentedly and quietly in a well-dressed woman's arms several aisles away startled everyone as it suddenly lifted itself up, barking loudly and ferociously with teeth bared at the wheelchair-bound figure as he passed by and rolled toward the stage at the front.

"Quiet, Gustav!" the woman scowled in German, shocked by the animal's behavior.

"What the devil is the matter with him?" her husband asked.

"I don't know," she said as she tried shushing the dog.

"Can you shut that damn thing up, please?" another man asked in annoyance. "I'm on the phone with someone!"

"I'm sorry, but something's really upset him."

"You shouldn't have taken your bloody dog along," a woman behind them hissed.

"I assure you, my dog has never acted like this in his entire life! He's usually quiet, well-behaved and very friendly!" the woman insisted.

"Madam, please take that dog out of the building or else I will call security," the bid caller said into a microphone.

Both man and woman got up from their seats, their faces cast down in embarrassment as they left the auditorium with their still furiously barking pet. Meanwhile, the wheelchair-bound figure and his colleagues settled by the foot of the stage as it began.

* * *

Konrad watched the auction with mild disinterest as the auctioneer showcased the first batch of items.

Although there was a wonderful collection with a wide range, from exotic jewellery, paintings, Grecian amphoras, kouros statues and Roman imitations to African tribal art and Ming vases, nothing had really captured the Baron's interest. Flurries of hands reached into the air as they made higher and higher bids, but he tuned them out.

Sighing, he turned to look over at Dieter to indicate to him and the others that they were leaving when he was overcome by a very strange sensation, a pull toward the stage. Glancing up, he stared at the object now on display.

It was an exceptionally ugly piece, a crudely made clay mask with two gaping eyeholes, a squat, barely existent nose that had gaping nostrils and an open mouth devoid of a lower jaw. Along the sides of the mask were what seemed to be stylized hair pieces or representations of hair made from gilded gold and copper that were overlaid on top of each other, the latter patinated from age. Positioned at the top of the mask were two opposite-facing crescent structures that rested against a patinated triangle, their backs spaced about two to three inches apart.

Konrad gave the structures a onceover.

They appeared to represent either crescent moons or horns, although he was uncertain which. Connecting the two crescent moons together at the top was a ring or a handle, possibly representing the moon, but a noticeable part of said-ring was chipped.

At a glance, it was just an ugly and unremarkable-looking ritual mask.

However, as Konrad listened to the bid caller, the more curious he became; not only were the crescents and ring made from bone, but according to the description pamplet and the caller, the entire section of clay that composed the artifact's "face" had been overlaid with human skin.

Dubbed the "Mask of the Ancients", the artifact's pedigree was less than certain. The bid caller said that it was possibly Mesopotamian due to the gold and copper, with the representations of the three moons having connection to the goddess Innana and the moon god Suen, while the patinated triangle represented Enki, the god of magic. The main face, however, either represented Ereshkigal, the goddess of the underworld, or her fearsome husband Nergal, though it was uncertain as to which. Due to the uncertainty surrounding the mask, Konrad noted how the other buyers were less than enthused about the item as they whispered their disdain to each other.

 _'Good,'_ he thought. Less chance of there being a hassle.

Konrad's hand twitched in anticipation as the auctioneer began to ask for bids.

* * *

"Of all the things to buy, Konrad, why did you have to get _that_?" Dieter asked with disgust in the limo.

"I take it you're not a fan, Dieter?" Konrad asked in English.

"Hell no, it gives me the creeps," the bodyguard said.

"I didn't realize that you were so easily spooked by mere trinkets," Konrad said in amusement.

"Look at it. Who the hell would want that as their mantelpiece?"

Konrad sighed as he glanced down to his latest purchase in his hands.

"It really is ugly, isn't it?" he laughed.

"So why did you buy it?" Dieter asked.

Konrad frowned.

"It is hard to explain," he said slowly. "When the bid caller showcased this I-I felt something. I can't explain it."

"Maybe it was magic." Came the sarcastic response.

"It's true, Dieter. It was like I was drawn to it. I just felt this urge to buy it."

The bodyguard gave him a concerned and doubtful look, then glanced to the other men.

"Was it worth eight thousand euros?" he asked.

Konrad growled.

"If it wasn't for that little bastard who kept driving up the price every time I made a bid I would have gotten it at a cheaper price," he said bitterly.

"So what are you going to do with it, Herr Baron?" Michael asked.

He shrugged.

"Probably have it as a paperweight on my office desk," he said. "I wonder if I can still get a tax deduction from this. Remind me later to consult someone who specializes in this sort of thing."

Konrad's ears perked up as the ringtone for a cell phone went off, then watched as Dieter pulled it out from his pant pocket and raised it to his ear.

"Yes?" he answered. "Uh huh? Alright. Yeah, I'll let him know."

Placing a hand to the speaker, Dieter looked over to Konrad.

"I have good news - my contact was able to get the items you were looking for," he said.

"Excellent. Tell Mr. Ferris that he'll get the rest of his money," Konrad replied.

Taking his hand away, Dieter resumed.

"Same place as last time?" he asked. "Okay, got it. I'll meet you at six. Don't be late."

As Dieter hung up, Konrad placed the ugly mask back into its brown cardboard box and handed it to Michael.

"Take me to work, Heinrich. I have some documents to sign."

* * *

 _The call has come at last. For eons it had waited at the bottom of the ocean floor. Unable to sleep, unable to dream or die, it merely lied there, waiting. It had searched endlessly throughout the centuries, but on every occasion, its efforts were foiled, forcing it back into stasis _until the call would come again. Schools of fish darted away in panic as it stirred, causing mud and debris to form a thick dark cloud.__

* * *

"Can you turn on the radio, Heinrich?" Konrad called from the back.

"Jawohl," the driver said as music came on. "Anything specific you want to hear, Herr Baron?"

"The news channel, if you please."

Chopin melted into disco, then faded into rap, then shifted into Justin Bieber, causing Konrad to curl his lip in disgust before shifting again to a news anchorwoman talking about weather forecasts, then a political scandal involving a New York Mayor, prostitutes and millions of dollars in cocaine. One news item talked about stocks and trades, while another talked about the discovery of a very large and unusually shaped turnip, which caused some of the men in the limo to raise eyebrows and laugh in amusement.

Konrad shifted his attention back outside, to the cityscape and the various billboards and holographic displays in neon. One particular billboard caught his eyes as the limo passed it.

"Ultratech - Looking to the Past to Preserve the Future."

Konrad smirked beneath his scarf. He couldn't have thought of a better slogan for his company. Hell, it was a perfect slogan for himself.

The news items blurred into each other, causing him to tune out, until one particular item made him lift his head with a start.

"In other news, tensions are on the rise in Tibet following the attack on a Tibetan monastery. According to officials, several monks were brutally beaten by a man in a ski mask after he had purportedly stolen some holy relics and sacred texts. The men are now hospitalized and under intensive care. Witnesses were unable to give a clear description."

Konrad's frame stiffened, his stomach churning as the woman rambled on the radio.

"Are you okay, Herr Baron?" Heinrich called.

"Nein," he said. "Turn it off."

Obeying, the limousine became dead silent.

"I thought you said the man was a professional."

"He is," Dieter replied.

"Then what the hell was that?!" Konrad roared. "He attacked _Tibetan monks_!"

"I'll find out everything I can as soon as I meet with him. For all we know we're jumping to conclusions and it wasn't him," the bodyguard assured.

"I want to be there."

Dieter gave him a hard look.

"I strongly advise against it," he said. "It is a dangerous neighborhood, Baron, full of homeless people and gang activity. There are no CCTVs. The police there are known to turn a blind eye and are bloody corrupt. Once you go in, you are at their mercy. These are the kind of folk who would not think twice about hurting a man in wheel chair."

"Then I'll go without it."

The bodyguard growled in exasperation.

"Baron, please!" he appealed. "People could still take photos of you on their cellphones, and if they do people will start asking very uncomfortable questions! This will find its way to the Board!"

"They'll not know that it's me, not in this attire," Konrad said. "As far as everyone is concerned, Baron Von Sabrewulf is a cripple unable to move from his seat. They're not going to expect him walking about now, are they? That's why for the purpose of anonymity you'll call me Newton."

Dieter sighed.

"Fine," he said, "but you'll follow my instructions down to the letter."

Konrad gave a nod, then turned looked in Heinrich's direction.

"Take us to the Pit."

* * *

 ***Author's Note: Shoutout to 10868letsgo for her suggestion and idea. Thank you so much! :)**


	3. Chapter Two: The Meeting

**Chapter Two: The Meeting**

 _ **"Life is a hideous thing, and from the background behind what we know of it peer daemoniacal hints of truth which make it sometimes a thousandfold more hideous."**_ \- H.P. Lovecraft

The sky was stained orange with dark purple clouds that crackled with thunder and lightning as the limo stopped just outside the zone. Dieter stepped out from the vehicle, looked cautiously around, then reached in to help his ward onto his feet, carefully concealing his lower legs.

"Are my legs showing?" Konrad asked with concern.

"No, your coat is long enough to cover you, sir," said Dieter. "You should be fine."

"Don't hang around here for too long, sir. It looks like there is going to be a storm and I wouldn't want to be stuck here when it happens," Heinrich warned. "Call me when you are ready for pickup."

With that, the limo drove off, leaving the pair exposed on the street.

Dieter gestured to the direction of their destination.

"Shall we?"

Together, the men walked forward.

* * *

The area that their contact resided in was a shithole. Known derogatorily as "the Pit", it was a stretch of shoddy, rundown buildings and houses, the windows of the latter either boarded up, broken and/or stained. It was rare to find anything in this place in pristine condition, let alone free from grime or graffiti, and there was plenty of the latter around. No matter where the duo turned or went, there was always graffiti of some form or another on a building, usually depicting phallic imagery, breasts, human or demonic faces, pentagrams, swastikas and gang insignias, although there were occasional quotes, phrases or words in different stylized fonts and colors. Sometimes one could find a whole dialogue exchange in this mess, although they rarely seemed intellectually stimulating. Often it was just racially inflammatory and sexist crap.

 _'Like an online forum,'_ Konrad thought as he took note of the graffiti exchange.

Pink neon lights stained the street, advertising brightly triple-X rated entertainment, strip clubs and sex paraphernalia, while opposite of them were pawn shops.

A group of women dressed in long coats, revealing dresses, miniskirts and high heels greeted the two men. To Konrad, the women looked like clowns. It didn't help that some of them stared at him, particularly at the very peculiar gait in his walk. He could only thank god that the cloak had been long enough to conceal his legs and feet.

"Hey fellas," a blonde woman with thick make-up and lipstick said with a sultry smile. "Wanna party?"

"No thank you," Dieter said firmly.

"Aw, too bad, honey," another pouted, then went over to Konrad and placed her arm around his. "How about your friend with the funny walk? What do you say, big boy?"

"Get lost," Konrad said gruffly in disgust as he wrenched himself from her.

The woman stood there in shock, as if a bucket of ice water had been dropped on her head.

"Well fuck you, asshole!" the woman said hotly.

The duo walked away as she and her friends hollered at them with expletives, waving their fists angrily and giving them both the middle finger.

"Always were the charming one," Dieter said amusedly.

Konrad growled.

"How far are we from where we need to be?" he demanded.

"We're almost there," Dieter assured.

"We better be."

They turned a corner and proceeded down a block, then took a right across the street over by a pizza place.

A skinny, disheveled heap of a man with piercings on his brow, nose and lower lip and a marijuana plant tattooed on his neck, came toward them, dressed in a white wife-beater and blue jeans, bearing the tell-tale signs of heroin addiction, twitching and fidgeting. His skin was practically pulled taught against his bones.

"Hey Mister, could you spare some change?" he asked.

"Piss off, junkie," Dieter said in contempt.

The man hollered after them, cursing as they continued down the path.

A youth in brown clothes ran down in the opposite direction on the other side of the sidewalk.

In an alleyway that the duo came upon, a man lay against the wall unmoving, holding a bottle in one hand.

Konrad averted his eyes away, trying to shut out everything except for the path front of him.

Two men fought on the other side of the street on top of someone's car, an old cruddy-looking thing with dents and chipped red paint, while their drunk buddies cheered them on with beer bottles in hand.

When they were twenty feet away from that group, an unshaven man with long filthy hair, dressed in equally unclean and comically oversized clothing, walked toward them along the path they were going, talking to himself loudly. Konrad and Dieter immediately switched to the opposite side of the street, away from the man as he continued arguing with whoever he was talking to. Konrad was certain the man had no earphone, let alone a cellphone.

Turning around another corner of a building, they walked down the block. As they passed another alley, Konrad saw a drunk man urinating against a dumpster, muttering to himself in drunken slurs as he tried to keep his balance. In another alley, a group of kids were smashing an old rusted car, treating the vandalism like some sort of game.

Two hooded figures huddled together, then broke away quickly, one of them having taken something from the other's hand.

No matter where Konrad looked, there was always something going on.

One particularly uncomfortable moment occurred when after the duo turned down another corner that a group of hooded figures, four teenagers, started to follow after them. The men walked calmly, slowly increasing their pace, only to find that the group did the same. After ten more steps, Dieter whirled around with his sidearm drawn, a black eight-millimeter Beretta, his face hard and filled with hate, ready to kill.

The teenagers stopped upon seeing the gun pointed at them. In their hands, switchblades wavered. Their eyes wide like saucers, they stared uneasily at him.

"Give me a reason," Dieter said in an icy tone, then gestured to a sewer behind the group. "Dump the knives into that sewer. Slowly."

The hooded figures turned around and obeyed. One figure, apparently the brains of this ragtag group of shitheads, however, wasn't so easily discouraged.

"You too, kid." Dieter said.

"Come on, man!" the punk's friends pled.

"What are you gonna do about it?" he huffed brazenly.

He suddenly lunged forward with the knife in hand.

Dieter fired, causing the figure to cry out in pain as he dropped the knife and held his bloody hand.

"My hand!" the youth cried. "Fuck! My hand!"

Kicking the knife quickly into the sewer, Dieter grabbed the youth by the collar and slammed him up against the wall, pressing the weapon under his chin.

"What did I say?! What did I just say, you stupid fucking cunt!" Dieter roared, his teeth bared. " _What did I say_?!"

"I'm sorry!" the figure wept. "I'm sorry. Please! Please, don't hurt me! I'll do anything! I'll do anything, I promise."

"L-look, dude, we don't want any trouble," one of the teenagers said. "We'll give you money, just-"

"Shut up."

The figure stood there in stunned silence.

"Here's what you little fuckheads are going to do," the bodyguard said lowly. "You and your buddy are going to take a long walk back to whatever shitty little hole you're from. I am going to count to five, and if you little shits aren't out of my sight by the time I finish, I'm going to start taking shots at you like I'm at the carnival. Do you understand?"

The youth swallowed.

"Yes," he answered.

"Good," Dieter replied as he shoved the thug he was holding over to them. "Now fuck off."

The teenagers bolted, running even faster the moment he started counting. Once they were completely out of sight, he stopped.

"We should get out of here," Konrad said, "the cops will arrive."

"They won't," Dieter said. "Like I said before, the cops tend to turn a blind eye to stuff that happens around here. As long as you pay them, anyway."

"What about those thugs? I'm sure no gang member is going to turn a blind eye to one of their own getting hurt. What if they come back with more?" Konrad asked.

Dieter laughed.

"'Gang members'? Those asswipes?" he said with a smile. "Did you see their clothes? They're not part of any gang, just stupid little faggots playing gangster."

"How do you know?"

"Believe me, I know," Dieter said ominously as he glanced at his watch. "We're behind schedule. Come on, "Newton"."

* * *

The place where they were expected to meet up at was a crappy-looking bar.

Dimly lit, the bar was Spartan in its furnishings, with a bar counter at the center, a few tables, chairs, a pool table at the back, a radio that played heavy rock and a couple of old arcade machines, but it looked very unfinished and reeked of urine and cigarette smoke, the air practically thick with the latter.

The bar had no sense of style, let alone warmth, like the rest of this godforsaken neighborhood. Konrad was certain that he saw bullet holes on some of the walls. The floor and most of the barstools next to the counter were stained, with what Konrad didn't even want to know, let alone think about.

It was practically empty.

Aside from some rats and cockroaches the size of terriers, the only ones there were the bartender, a gruff bald man of forty with hairy tattooed arms and a handlebar mustache, his assistant, a scrawny twenty year-old fellow with the face of a rat with a ring between his nostrils like a bull, and a man sitting alone at a table at the back left-hand corner of the bar next to the pool table.

The latter stood out like a sore thumb from this entire neighborhood. Dressed in a black leather jacket, a white shirt, blue jeans and a pair of black combat boots, the man was in his early thirties, had a lean but muscular build, weighing, if Konrad were to guess, a hundred and ninety-five pounds. Clean-shaven, with a blonde crew cut and tanned skin devoid entirely of tattoos and piercings, the man was strikingly handsome, much to Konrad's envy, with chiseled features, a straight nose, a strong jaw and chin, and piercing crystal clear blue eyes. Everything about him - his cleanliness, the tidy and pristine condition of his clothing, and his build - suggested he was military, if not former military. At a glance, it would be easy to see the man as an anomaly in this crude setting - hell, compared to the rest of the inhabitants around here the guy looked like Apollo, - but there was a noticeably dangerous edge that Konrad was able to sense from him, along with his arrogance; the man had a perpetual smirk plastered on one side of his mouth with a look of contempt for everyone and everything around him.

As Dieter approached him, the man stood up. Konrad estimated him to be six-two.

"Ben," Dieter greeted, tipping his hat.

"Dieter," the man said in a lazy Californian accent as he eyed Konrad suspiciously. "You didn't say anything about bringing friends along. Who's Emperor Palpatine here?"  
"This is an associate mine," the bodyguard said.

"I'm Newton," Konrad said as he held out his gloved hand to shake hands.

The man didn't reach out. Instead he just stared at him, the damn smirk creeping back up to one side of his face.

"Of course you are," he replied as his eyes studied his apparel. "The fuck is with the get up? You look like some sort of flasher."

Konrad's temper flared. In just under five seconds the man had already gotten under his skin. Konrad took a step when Dieter clapped his hand on his shoulder, giving him a look. He then turned back to the man.

"My friend had suffered some serious burns recently," Dieter explained.

"Hm," came the response.

Konrad didn't know if the man had bought it, and frankly he didn't really care.

"I didn't get your name," Konrad said.

"I never told you," the man replied evenly.

"Gentlemen, please, there's no need for hostilities," Dieter said. "Newton, meet Ben Ferris, ex-Special Forces Lieutenant. Ben, Newton. Everybody knows everybody now, alright? Okay. Now, we should sit down, we have business to discuss."

The men sat down at the table. Konrad watched as the bartender and his assistant stepped away from the bar counter and moved to the back.

"You're late," Ferris said.

Dieter shrugged.

"We were briefly detained by some thugs, but a little ass-kicking or two I find is enough to send the message home," he replied.

"Usually does," Ferris nodded in agreement.

"You're not going to pat us down?" Konrad asked.

"Why? Do you want me to?" Ferris asked.

"No, I just thought you would to check for concealed firearms."

"I don't bother with that," he replied. Again, the damn smirk. "Besides, I like a good fight."

"It does work up an appetite, though," Dieter said. "You want to order something?"

Ferris raised an eyebrow.

"You're not serious, right?"

"You're not eating?"

Ferris gave him an incredulous look.

"Are you kidding? In this stinkin' dump? I wouldn't eat the food here even if you paid me _billions!_ You'd get botulism from this shit," he exclaimed. "The beer's safe, though. It's in a sealed cooler behind the counter. Speaking of which, I might as well get one."

He got up from his seat and headed toward the bar counter at the right.

"Yo, Boris!" Ferris called to the back. "Mind if I take a beer?"

The man said something garbled in Russian.

"I love you too, Boris baby!" he said sarcastically, making an audible and highly exaggerated smooching sound.

Coming back with beer in hand, Konrad watched as Ferris pulled the cap off and took a swig of his drink.

"Ahh, that hit the spot," he said after swallowing. "You two want a beer?"

Both men declined his offer.

Ferris shrugged.

"Oh well," he said.

Sitting back down into his chair, he regarded the two men before him.

"So tell me, Dieter, how's life been treating you?"

"I'm doing pretty well," Dieter replied.

"Still a bodyguard?"

"Yep."

"I hear that you're working for royalty. Count, is it?"

Konrad glanced around in suspicion.

Ferris laughed.

"Relax, man, you're not under surveillance. Cops don't care for these parts, and I worked with both the CIA and Interpol long enough to know how they work and how to keep a hundred steps ahead of them," he said.

Konrad blinked in surprise.

"You worked with the CIA?"

"Yep," he replied. "Lots of off-the-book stuff. I could tell you all sorts of juicy details - that is, if you're willing to pay me."

Nothing that Ferris said comforted Konrad. It made him realize how precarious their situation was.

"We're leaving," Konrad said.

He started to get out of his chair when Ferris stood up in protest.

"Hey, hey, hey! Fellas, please, we're all friends here. You guys don't have to worry about little ole me, this place ain't for grasses."

"And why should we trust you?"

"You don't have a choice," he said simply. "Besides, I got what you wanted."

Settling back down in their seats, Konrad nervously kept his attention on Ferris and his surroundings, planning his escape route should a raid occur.

"Relax," Dieter said as he put his hand on Konrad's arm.

"First time he's ever done this, right?" Ferris asked, regarding Konrad in amusement.

The bodyguard nodded.

"Figures," Ferris said aloud. "So, are the rumors about your employer true?"

Konrad stiffened.

"What rumors?" Dieter asked.

"I heard that the guy's supposed to be like a modern day Howard Hughes or something, old nut-job sealed up in his own castle living like a hermit with long finger nails."

The Baron felt heat rush up to his face beneath the scarf.

Nut-job!

He wanted to smash the arrogant little shit.

"I bet the guy has AIDs or something," Ferris said.

"We didn't come here to talk about gossip surrounding aristocracy," Dieter said impatiently. "The items we requested."

Ferris waved away.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it," he said before narrowing his eyes. "What about my money?"

"Not until we're sure it's the real thing," Konrad replied.

"It's real."

"So you say."

Ferris huffed.

"Listen, Jack," he said, "I went through a lot of trouble getting it."

"And we appreciate that enormously, Ben," Dieter said cautiously. "However, without examining the items in question, we have no way of knowing whether it's real or not."

"Not my problem, Dieter."

"On the contrary, it's _very_ much your problem. I recommended you because you're the best."

"Damn straight."

"And because you're the best, my employer expects results. If the people that you stole from tricked you into giving us a fake, they're not just pulling one over on us, but on _you_ as well. How do you think you being made a dupe of is going to look to others in your line of business?"

"And who the fuck is gonna gab?!" Ferris said threateningly in a raised voice. His face was turning red. "You fuckers think you can just threaten me?!"

Dieter raised a hand in placation.

"No, Ben, _I'm_ not the one threatening you," he said calmly. "It's the men you stole from that threaten your credibility. I am the one _concerned_ for your professional integrity."

"Gee thanks, dad," Ferris said sarcastically, "but I didn't ask you nor do I give a shit about your "concern"."

"Ben," the bodyguard said, "you pride yourself on being the best there is, on being able to see a mission through to the end. You pride yourself on having a spotless record with one hundred percent success rates for each job completed."

He sighed.

"Well, then again I suppose sometimes "good enough" is just enough. We can't all be perfect, let alone successful."

Ferris was quiet and still for a moment. Then he glanced up.

"Let me tell you something, Dieter," he said in a hushed voice, as if trying to restrain the full fiery blast of his rage. "You'll never, NEVER, find anyone as good as me, and when I say that the job was a success, you better not fuckin' question it! This shitty little job you gave me was _nothing_ compared to all the others I had before. I did the job, I succeeded, and my record remains intact. You think I don't know what you're doing, trying to wind me up so that I start feeling insecure over something like this? Fuck you!"

Dieter shrugged.

"If that's the way you feel," he replied.

"Damn straight that's how I feel!" Ferris said angrily, his body visibly shaking. "I don't need your approval or anyone's, so _FUCK OFF!"_

Dieter nodded to Konrad, motioning him to follow.

The two men got up from their seat and headed out the door, exiting the bar.

Once the door closed behind them, Konrad whirled around to face the bodyguard, "What the fuck was that?!"

"Give him a moment," Dieter said.

"Frankly I think the best course of action would be to leave as soon as possible. The man's probably arming himself as we speak, getting ready to hunt us down."

"He's not going to shoot us," Dieter assured. "He just needs some time to cool down. Trust me, I said _waaay worse_ than that to him and I'm still standing."

That calmed Konrad down.

"You're sure?" he asked.

"Yeah," the bodyguard replied.

Konrad heaved a sigh of relief.

"Although, I still have scars from the last time..." Dieter said under his breath.

* * *

The two men waited fifteen minutes before entering the bar again, cautiously approaching Ferris' table.

"Sit."

They did so without saying anything. As minutes counted, Konrad decided to break the awkward silence.

"I want to examine the items," Konrad said.

Reaching to the chair beside him, Ferris brought up a couple of rolled up parchment scrolls that were old with age along with a medallion and a miniature bust, both depicting stylized interpretations of a tiger. Pulling his hands away, he watched Konrad as he reached out to grab them. The moment his fingers touched the artifacts, Konrad felt something, something electrical.

 _'Yes, they're real,_ ' he thought.

There was power in these artifacts, he was certain. He could feel it surging through them.

Konrad did a double-take.

Where in the world did that thought come from? Was he losing his mind already?

Trying to push his worries down, Konrad unravelled the parchment and studied it, carefully examining every line and detail before moving on to the others. After two minutes, he glanced up and gave a nod.

"They're real," he confirmed.

"Told you," Ferris replied, although there was a subtle hint of relief.

"Were there any complications?" Dieter asked.

The smirk returned.

"Well," Ferris said smugly, "I may have cracked a few eggs here and there."

"You sent several men to the hospital," Konrad growled.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Ferris said innocently, then added, "but even if I did, so what?"

""So what"?!" Konrad roared. "It was in the news! What part of _"discretion"_ didn't you understand?!"

Ferris gave him a dark look.

"I don't like your tone, _Newton_." he said lowly.

"And I don't like fuckups, especially ones that result in _media coverage_ and with _Tibetan monks being beaten and sent to hospital!"_ Konrad fired back.

"Ha! _Tibetan monks!"_ Ferris barked with a sneer. "Last I heard on the news they were being dismissed as "Tiger cultists" and that the Dalai Lama supposedly denied having any involvement or affiliation with them. For a group that's supposed to be about pacifism, they sure put up one hell of a fight, especially that last guy before I clocked him out. He was a nut."

He tilted his head thoughtfully. "I guess things being the way they are in Tibet and China has made people from the former take more stock of their potential value, especially with the latter country coming down on them."

He shrugged.

"Oh well," he said.

Konrad stared at the man in repulsion.

"How do you live with yourself?" he asked.

Ferris scowled.

"What are you, my mother? Your problem is that you're a pussy that gets squeamish at the sight of a little blood. Conflict makes the world go round, man; without it we wouldn't have our stereos, our TVs, our education, our governments, our way of life...and there's plenty of money to be made from it."

He swung his boots onto the table, leaning casually against the cushion.

"The way I see it, I'm merely doing the world a service," he said. "Whether it's overthrowing governments or helping governments find those that shit the bed, guys like me _help_ someone out there."

"Oh really?" Konrad said sarcastically.

"Damn straight," Ferris said. "Face it, in order to maintain the illusion of being _incapable_ of doing no wrong or having done no wrong, you need someone to do things you couldn't. Otherwise, how would you be able to sleep at night? Have you ever thought about the people that had made the clothes on your back? The same people who probably got hurt or ripped off? Do you shudder every time you use a cellphone to make a call?"

"What does my cellphone have to do with this?"

"Plenty. I can tell you about how it was made in some factory in India with child labor. I could even tell you about how those children were butchered, maimed or worse, unable to live anywhere except some shithole. Do you ever think about that every time you use a computer, text a buddy, write an email and so on? No. You may cry when you occasionally hear about it, but other than that, it's pushed to the back of your mind. Intentional, unintentional. Care, don't care. Do something, do nothing. Cause, effect, side-effect, whatever - the point is, people are going to get hurt no matter what, when, where, who, why or how, that's just life. Besides..." he paused as he drank from his beer bottle. Putting it down onto the table, he continued, smiling, "I love my job."

The smile faded from his face.

"Now, if you're done being a bleeding heart, what about my payment?"

Dieter took out his cellphone. After a few minutes, he placed the phone away.

"Money's been wired to your Geneva account, as promised."

Ferris took out his own cell phone from his own pant pocket. Satisfied, he gave a nod of approval.

"Okay."

"And that concludes our business," Konrad said as he gathered up the artifacts and put them into his pockets. Turning to his companion, he gave him a nod. "Let's go."

Getting up from their seats, the two men turned around and started for the exit.

* * *

Konrad was surprised to see how quiet and empty the streets had become. It hadn't been that long since he and Dieter came into the area, and yet in the span of a few minutes, all activity had ceased the moment they exited the bar. As he and his bodyguard retraced their way back, Konrad anxiously watched the empty streets. The only sounds he heard were wind and thunder from the approaching storm. The only activity he saw was the fluttering of a piece of cardboard. Konrad felt exposed in the empty streets due to its openness and silence. Even more, he was certain that he and Dieter were being watched and followed. Dieter also seemed aware of it himself, for despite the broad brimmed felt hat concealing most of his face in shadow, Konrad could see the man's mouth drawn into a tight grim line. He was also getting noticeably jumpier, his hand ready to reach for his sidearm at the slightest disturbance in a moment's notice.

They were close to the entrance when a clattering of garbage cans from their right caused Dieter to whip out his Beretta. A loud meow caused the man to give a sigh.

"Fucking cats," he said.

Rounding a corner, Konrad saw the familiar glow of the neon lights when a punch to the eye caught him by surprise, causing him to stagger back.

"Sir!" Dieter shouted.

Konrad heard a scuffle, a gunshot, a grunt and a clatter on the ground, followed by the sound of someone being hit, a groan of pain and a thud. As he regained his balance, Konrad looked up to see Ferris stepping out from the shadows, standing over Dieter with a sneer on his face.

"Did you think that I was just going to let you go after that little stunt ya pulled, D?" Ferris asked.

He kicked Dieter in the ribs, causing him to cry out in pain.

"You think you could just humiliate me like that in front of my associates?!" he said before kicking him again.

"Leave him alone!" Konrad yelled as he charged forward.

Dodging his attack to the side, Ferris backhanded him, causing him to stagger back in pain.

"Fuck off, gimp," he replied.

Konrad whirled around in rage, lunging again at the man with hands outstretched, lashing out in every direction he moved. Ferris effortlessly ducked, danced, rolled and glided through the swipes.

"Ha! You fight like a bitch!" the man sneered.

Konrad charged him again, his face heated beneath his scarf. When he stepped forward to throw a punch, Ferris somersault kicked into the air, the blow catching Konrad in the jaw, lifting him off his feet and causing him to crash onto the ground and see stars.

Rolling over, he stumbled onto all fours when he felt a blow to the chest, causing him to double over, followed by another, and another and another. Ferris was circling around him, laughing at him.

"Fuckin' faggot! You thought you could take me on?! ME?! Really?!" he said loudly, spitting on him. "Stupid motherfucker. You can't fight for shit."

Konrad struggled onto his hands and knees when he felt the mercenary grab his hood.

"Let's see what you look like," Ferris said as he pulled the hood back.

* * *

As the hood was whisked away, Ferris stared, startled and perplexed by what he saw.

"What the fuck?!" he said.

No sooner had those words left his mouth when the cloaked figure gave a roar of fury as it lunged at him, knocking him down onto his back. The cloaked figure pummeled at him repeatedly, slamming his fists against his face like an angry gorilla over and over.

* * *

Konrad continued slamming his fists down on Ferris, his entire consciousness consumed by nothing but rage and hate. He would have continued had Dieter not intervened by pulling him away from the figure beneath him.

"STOP IT! STOP IT! SIR, GET AHOLD OF YOURSELF!" Dieter said through clenched teeth as he clutched tightly around his torso.

Konrad struggled against him.

"Sir, for god's sake, stop! Breathe through your nostrils. Just breathe, Baron!" Dieter said in a hushed voice. "Breathe in, breathe out. Slow breaths."

Konrad closed his eyes and followed the bodyguard's instructions. After three minutes, his body relaxed.

"You okay?"

Konrad nodded.

"Yeah."

Once was he satisfied that Konrad regained self-control, he let go.

"Good. Get your hood back up, sir." Dieter replied as he went over to Ferris' fallen form, his felt hat in hand. Konrad paled as he saw the damage done. Ferris' face was swollen, his eyes black and blue while blood oozed from his nose.

"Is he dead?" Konrad asked worriedly as he tidied himself.

The bodyguard shook his head as put his felt hat back on.

"No, he's still breathing," he assured. "Barely conscious."

A slight groan came from Ferris' cut lips as he dazedly looked up at Dieter.

Pulling out a pair of handcuffs from his coat, Dieter clapped one manacle around the semi-conscious man's wrist, then after rolling him onto his side, bound both hands behind his back.

"Since when do you carry around handcuffs?" Konrad demanded.

"It's a present from an old girlfriend that was into kinky shit," the bodyguard explained. "Call the car."

Konrad pulled out his cellphone and dialed.

"Heinrich, get your ass here this instant!" he said. "I'll send you the address to pick us up at."

"Jawohl!" Came the reply.

Once he finished texting the address of the street they were on, Konrad hung up turned back to Dieter.

"Car's on its way."

"What are we going to do with him?" Dieter asked, gesturing to Ferris.

"We'll take him with us. He's seen me."

Dieter gave him a dark look.

"We're kidnapping people now?" he asked.

"We don't have a choice, Dieter. He knows and has seen too much."

"And what are we going to do, kill him?"

"I-" Konrad paused. He hadn't thought this through. "I don't know. I need to think. Has anyone seen us?"

"Why, you plan on taking them with us too?"

"Dieter!"

"I don't think anyone saw us," the bodyguard replied. "But sir, this is crazy!"

Konrad grunted.

"Welcome to my world."

* * *

It didn't take long for the limo to arrive.

"What happened, Herr Baron? Who is that?" Heinrich asked as they approached the car with Ferris in hand, dragging his feet along the ground as they carried him.

"Never mind that. Open your trunk." Konrad demanded.

Exchanging nervous glances with the others in the backseat, Heinrich looked to Dieter for an answer.

"Do as I say!" Konrad said harshly.

Flinching, the driver obeyed, popping the trunk open. Dragging Ferris to the back of the limo, they pulled up the lid and hoisted the man in before sealing it shut, slamming it down hard to make sure it was secure.

"Do you still have the artifacts, Baron?" Dieter asked.

Checking his cloak, Konrad felt around in the pockets before finally grabbing hold of said-items. Glancing up, he gave a nod.

"Do you still have your weapon?" he asked. "

"Yeah."

"Are you sure? I don't want some homeless person or kid to-"

"I got it." Dieter interrupted.

"Good," Konrad said as he gave one final glance around. The winds were picking up and it was starting to rain. The storm was close. "Let's get out of here."

* * *

The drive back was tense as the other men in the limo silently stared at Konrad and Dieter.

Rain pelted loudly against the vehicle like millions of fingers tapping on a table while the wind whistled. Even through the tinted windows Konrad could see how dark it was getting outside. It was at that moment he heard the siren behind them along with a pair of flashing lights.

"Shit," Heinrich said as he slowed and pulled over.

Konrad's heart raced as he saw the silhouettes of two police officers head over to the driver's side.

As Heinrich rolled down his window, Konrad caught sight of one of the men. Dressed in a blue retro-styled overcoat modeled after the American police uniforms of the 1910s and 1920s, with a balaclava covering most of his head except for his face, the man wore a peaked cap and had a harsh face with a strong aquiline nose.

"Guten Abend, Officer," Heinrich greeted. "Is there a problem?"

"You were speeding," the officer replied.

"Ah hell." the driver swore.

"License and registration please."

As Heinrich reached for his wallet, Konrad heard a groan.

The sound caught everyone's attention.

"What was that?" the officer said.

"Hello?" Ferris shouted from the trunk.

"There's someone in the trunk." Konrad heard a voice say to the police officer. Probably his partner.

"I know who it is," the officer replied with a dark look on his face.

"Help me! Somebody! Anybody! Help me! Please!" Ferris called.

"Open the trunk, sir."

"But-" Heinrich protested.

"Do it." Konrad said in defeat.

He was kidding himself if he thought for a moment that he was actually going to get away with it. The only thing for him to do was to accept what was to come.

Konrad heard the click at the back, then watched as both officers went to the rear of the limo.

"Well, well, well." one of the officers said in English. "Mister Ferris."

"Fritz, old buddy!" Ferris exclaimed. "It's so good to see you! Hey Hans!"

"It looks like you got yourself in quite a predicament," Fritz said coolly.

"Yeah, I'm a bit tied up," Ferris replied, then gave a laugh. "Ha! "Tied up". Could either of you help me out here?"

The officers were quiet.

"Come on, guys! Get me out of this stinkin' thing!" he demanded. "Get me the fuck out of here! Don't forget who it is that gives you those big juicy paycheques."

"I haven't forgotten, Ben. You've been very generous," Konrad heard "Fritz" say before adding angrily, "but that didn't give you the right to sleep with _my wife! NOR MY DAUGHTER!"_

"Nor mine!" "Hans" said in addition.

"Look, we can talk about this. I'll double what I pay you. Triple it, even!"

Konrad watched as one of the officers came back to the driver's window.

"Do any of you have some tape?"

Everyone shook their heads.

"A sock, perhaps?"

Lawrence raised up a hand.

"Oh good," the officer said. "Could you pass it here, please?"

Konrad stared at the exchange in bemusement as Lawrence pulled a sock out from his pant pocket, reached over and handed it to him.

"Thank you."

Everyone exchanged questioning glances to each other as the man disappeared again to the rear.

"I don't know who you managed to piss off this time, Ben, but I honestly hope that I never see you around here again. Auf Wiedersehen!"

"You're not getting away with this! Do you hear me?! When I get out of this I'll make you two regret messing with me! Fuckin' pussies! Your wives and daughters knew what a _real_ man I was!"

Konrad heard one of the officers struck Ferris, causing him to let out a grunt in pain.

"Ooh, did I hit a nerve?" Ferris taunted. "It's not my fault you two have cheap imitation for dicks!"

"Restrain him while I get the gag on," "Hans" said.

"YOUR WIVES TOLD ME HOW NEITHER OF YOU COULD SATISFY THEM! NEITHER OF YOU! THEY JUST LAUGHED AT YOU AND WERE BEGGING ME NOT TO STOP! AND YOUR DAUGHTERS WANTED M-"

Ferris was cut off, his rants becoming muffled. When they finished, Konrad heard one of the officers struck Ferris again, causing the muffling to stop. Closing the trunk, one of the officers went to the driver's window.

"We'll let you off with a warning this time," he said. "Have a good evening, gentlemen."

As the two officers headed back to their vehicle, Konrad felt all the nerves in his body untangle as the limo departed. Everyone in the vehicle heaved a collective sigh of relief. Dieter gave a short laugh.

"Well, we certainly dodged a hell of a silver bullet back there!" he chuckled.

The other men joined in. All except for Konrad, who only glared.

Dieter paused.

"Sorry."


	4. Chapter Three: The Tournament

**Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft and "The Wolf Man" is a property belonging to Universal Studios. I do not own any of these characters.**

 ***Song: Lycanthropy by Mick Gordon -** ( watch?v=3Whpo3lYRmA) (6:30)

 **Chapter Three: The Tournament**

 _ **"Alone, alone, all, all alone,**_  
 _ **Alone on a wide wide sea!**_  
 _ **And never a saint took pity on**_  
 _ **My soul in agony.**_

 _ **The many men, so beautiful!**_  
 _ **And they all dead did lie:**_  
 _ **And a thousand thousand slimy things**_  
 _ **Lived on; and so did I."**_ \- "The Rime of the Ancient Mariner" by Samuel Coleridge

The limo stopped in front of the thick iron gates of the Sabrewulf estate and waited as a pair of guards emerged from the tiny booth.

On the gate and their uniforms was the Sabrewulf sigil, a pair of crossed sabres with a wolf's head at the center, with the words "Zahn und Klaue" written beneath. Once the guards verified the identities of the occupants within the vehicle, they went back to the booth and electronically opened the gate, watching as it disappeared along the thick twisting wooded road ahead, then sealed it shut behind them.

* * *

Inside the limo, Konrad watched through the tinted window as various security personnel patrolled the dense forests and vast fields of his estate alongside the intimidating Theseus combat androids.

Developed by his own company and utilized by their own private security subsidiary, Konrad felt a surge of pride flood through him as he gazed upon the latter.

Massive, imposing two meter tall machines that were gold in color with glowing red eyes, the Theseus units were designed to resemble Greek hoplite warriors complete with skirts, leg braces, sandal-like feet and heads that resembled Corinthian helmets with nose pieces, although some claimed that facially they looked gruesomely like horse skulls.

With their skeletal hands, their wrist-mounted cannons, capable of firing both lethal and non-lethal rounds, protected by a ceramic casing that guarded the forearms from damage, they were a sight to behold.

It was Konrad who insisted during the design process with the R&D Department that the Greek Hoplite motif be utilized.

"Admiring your creations again, Baron?" Dieter asked.

"Beautiful, aren't they?" Konrad said.

Dieter grunted.

"I suppose." he replied. "Then again I'm not into that sort of thing."

"That's you're problem, Dieter," Konrad said mirthfully, "you just have no taste for art."

Dieter smirked as he raised up his middle finger.

* * *

A gray, gloomy and sprawling collection of Medieval buildings made of stone that were built upon the hillside, the main house for Sabrewulf Mansion itself was built over a moat and had a draw bridge at the entrance, its back facing a lake with thick forests and mountains beyond.

Fidgeting with the artifacts he bought, Konrad waited as the limo parked itself in the courtyard and as his men got out to get the wheelchair ready. After they helped him into said-chair, Dieter wheeled him to the entrance where Jurgen greeted them while Heinrich drove the vehicle back to its garage.

"You're late for your appointments with Dr. Gupte and Mr. Zhou, Herr Baron," Jurgen admonished, then stopped as he saw Dieter. "What happened to your face?"

Dieter didn't answer.

Jurgen turned back to Konrad, his eyes hardening.

"What have you done this time?" he demanded.

"We'll discuss it later, Jurgen," Konrad said as he handed the artifacts to Michael. "Take these to my office."

"Jawohl." Michael said as he quickly marched up the stairs.

"Take me to the good doctor and the sadist, will you?"

* * *

Konrad collapsed onto the matted floor of the gym, exhausted and covered in sweat, his tongue hanging out as he panted like a dog. Wearing nothing but shorts, he lied there on his back, his arms and legs outstretched.

 _'I'm ready to die now, God,_ ' he thought.

Around him were various weight-lifting equipment, barbells, dumbbell racks, treadmills, exercise bicycles, punching bags, and so on.

Meanwhile, the devil smiled at him while he was towelling himself off, dressed in a tight green and black tank top that highlighted his perfect biceps and abs and green shorts that were so tight that they highlighted his glutes.

Tyler Zhou was a sixty-two year old Chinese American of constant and annoyingly cheerful disposition with the body of a forty year old, always walking around with a smile on his face.

Konrad's trainer for thirty years, he had been charged in Thailand for some drug-related offence, and by participating in their highly controversial five-round Prison Fight program was Zhou able to earn his freedom. It was his accounts that inspired Konrad to form the Killer Instinct tournament.

"You did well today, Baron!" the torturer said cheerfully as he wiped his bald head.

"Yes, thank you, Mr. Zhou!" Konrad snapped irritably.

"Aw, what's the matter?" Zhou asked as he went over to where he lay and crouched over him.

"The fact that you're trying to kill me isn't enough?" Konrad said.

Zhou rolled his eyes.

"You are such a drama queen, Baron," he replied. "You want to know what your problem is?"

"Please enlighten me."

"Your problem isn't muscle, as you actually have plenty of that. I actually kind of envy you."

"Well, thank you."

"I'm serious, Baron! Four hundred pounds and you're stacked like a brick!" Zhou said.

"So what is my problem?" Konrad asked.

Zhou leaned forward.

"Your problem, Baron," he said, "is this spare tire you're carrying around. You should lay off those wines and snacks."

As he talked, Zhou patted Konrad on the belly.

"Stop doing that!" Konrad snapped, causing the trainer to retract his hand. "I'm not your damn dog!"

Zhou merely smiled.

"I can't help it! You remind me of one I used to own as a kid."

Konrad snarled in annoyance as he rolled onto his side.

"Well excuse me for not leaping for joy at the comparison." he said lowly as he pushed himself up and headed for the shower room. "Don't ever do that again."

* * *

After a hot shower, Konrad stood in front of the mirror, staring morosely at the hideous thing that stared back. Covered entirely in blue fur with bits of gray, a wolf's head with glowing green eyes, a thick mane and barely any sort of neck sat upon a barrel-like chest that rested on a slim waist, with thickly muscled arms that ended in long hands with sharp clawed-tipped fingers, the hips supported by a pair of triple-jointed legs with paws for feet.

 _'Dear god, I look just like my father all those years ago,'_ he thought in horror.

* * *

Konrad's condition wasn't, as numerous shitty movies would suggest, the result of deals with the Devil, or bites from a seemingly ordinary wolf, or witchcraft, or from drinking from puddles in paw prints or from pissing off some deity.

Nor was it the result of aliens - at least, he was pretty certain of that, - parasites, Atlantis, government experimentation, Illuminati, chemical exposure, radiation or the hundreds of stupid explanations given throughout much of the horror and science fiction genres.

And nor was it the result of a romantic encounter with an animal, as was often suggested by mythology.

At least he hoped not.

There were no day-and-night transformations, nor were full moons ever a part of it; there was certainly a _bit_ of the former, however - a long, painful and arduous process that lasted for years rather than occurring in the space of a scant few seconds or minutes as in the movies and comics, starting in his mid thirties.

Konrad still remembered how painful it was when his legs started to unnaturally reshape themselves, how it had forced him to become bedridden for an ungodly long period, requiring him to use bedpans to go to the bathroom.

He still remembered the awful humiliation of sometimes missing and staining his own floor and sheets, of how Jurgen had to tend to him and clean him up and everything around him like he was some sort of goddamn baby. It was because of that that he had to be bound to that damn wheelchair like some sort of invalid.

Nor was he able to revert back. Once he became...a _werewolf_ , it was permanent.

Silver also had nothing to do with Konrad's condition either, nor did it have any effect on him aside from giving him permanent argyria. Dieter had once made a crack about how he had looked like the Smurfs' dog. That crack earned him a broken nose.

As far as Konrad's condition was concerned, it was purely genetic. At least, that's what he is certain of.

Various details pertaining to Konrad's ancestors were incredibly obscure, perhaps made deliberately so, as Konrad suspected.

The only thing he knew was that the Sabrewulf family had been around since the Middle Ages and had a long history of tragedies.

Konrad's father, Ernst Von Sabrewulf, was the youngest of four children.

The son of an aristocratic intelligence officer who had worked as some sort of double agent, supplying much for the Allied forces during World War Two, Ernst grew up to be a successful businessman and married Emma Winters, a British school teacher.

She died during childbirth in 1964.

Since that time, Konrad always had a strained relationship with his father.

They had barely talked with each other, let alone enjoyed each other's company.

Whether it was boarding schools or holidays that sent him far across Europe, Konrad always got the sense that the man didn't like him, nor did he want to be around him, often locked up in his room.

It was Jurgen's father and mother, Max and Hanna, who provided much of his rearing; Ernst's siblings and parents had perished years ago while those on Konrad's mother's side were excluded entirely, a curious isolationist tendency that was part of his family's tradition, something he had never understood at the time.

It wasn't until he was fifteen that he found out why it was so when learned the true nature of his father's state, when he was returning home from school.

* * *

 _The door to the dungeon shook heavily as something snarled loudly inside._

 _Something was trying to get out._

 _Konrad trembled on the stairs as he caught a glimpse of a slobbering dog-like face through a crack, eying him like he was its next meal._

 _"GET BACK, BOY! IT'S TOO DANGEROUS HERE!" Max called from inside. "FOR GOD'S SAKE GET OUT OF HERE, NOW!"_

 _The last thing Konrad remembered as he fled back upstairs was an awful roar followed by the deafening sound of his father's shotgun._

* * *

Once Max and Hanna had finished cleaning up the grisly task of getting rid of the body, along with the pieces, they told Konrad about the condition that his family had suffered from throughout the centuries, his _true_ inheritance.

Since then, Konrad traveled the world learning everything he could about the phenomena of _cynocephaly_ , studying the various myths about _"lupe garou",_ _"wulvern", "skinwalkers", "faoladhs"/"concroichts",_ and whatever else they were called throughout the world cultures in the vast gulf of time.

He had tried contacting anonymously on Reddit to see if there had been anyone out there with the condition that he had. The people that responded either trolled him with malicious comments, Rick Astley videos, told him to drop dead, or were complete idiots or lunatics.

As far as he was aware, he was the _only_ werewolf in existence, and only a handful of people knew that.

 _'Hopefully it will stay that way,"_ he thought.

With the help of his attorney, Konrad was able to draft a contractual agreement that prohibited everyone in his household from talking about his condition to the public, including his own doctors.

Despite the fact that Konrad was able to keep a lid on it, it didn't make things easier for him.

He still worried about the potential threat of exposure and what it meant for his position at the company.

He still worried about what would happen if his condition became public knowledge.

From what legal research exists, Konrad wouldn't be accepted as a "person" - human-animal hybrids wouldn't be able to hold assets, let alone have the right to vote. They wouldn't have the right to drive. At best, he'd be a scientific oddity to be dissected and puzzled over for years to come.

A freak.

Konrad punched the mirror in fury.

Damn this condition, damn it to hell!

"Baron! Is everything alright in there?" Zhou called from outside as he knocked at the door.

"I'm fine, I'm fine," Konrad called back. "I just slipped and broke the mirror."

Pulling his arm away, he stared at the spider cracks of his broken reflection. Shaking himself furiously, he wiped himself off with the towel, then got on a pair of shorts and gave a heavy, weary and sad sigh as he headed out the door.

* * *

"It's about time you showed up, Herr Baron. I was afraid that we'd have to cancel our appointment."

"Sorry," Konrad said as Jurgen wheeled him into her office.

Sitting behind her desk, Dr. Erin Gupte was an intimidating, stoic, fifty-three year woman with short silver hair, strong features and a stern mouth.

Dressed in a lab coat, a white buttoned up blazer, blouse and a long black skirt with heels, she exuded confidence and a sense of authority, taking Konrad aback despite her much smaller frame and stature.

He was reminded of a principal he had years ago; the woman looked and sounded as if she had been carefully constructed from ice, with a low grating voice and a cold demeanor to match.

Her office was small, probably no more than eight feet long and five or six feet wide, with two bookshelves lined against the walls and her desk positioned between them both, while mounted prominently on the wall behind her in display were various graduate certificates and awards from prestigious universities. He didn't see any photos.

"I don't appreciate having my time wasted." she said as she stood up. "Follow me to the examination room please."

Jurgen obeyed, steering Konrad after her as they passed by various closed doors with labels indicating the other labs and storage spaces. One door in particular was regarded with dread by the Baron - the door to the dungeon. Ever since that day, he tried avoiding that place whenever he could, for he knew that one day he might end up there, just as his father had before him. It always came back to haunt him, be it in dreams or when he was awake.

Once they arrived, they slipped inside and locked the door behind them. Gupte's attention was fixed on the file she had in hand.

"Get him onto the table." she said without looking up.

Jurgen reached down when Konrad got up from the chair himself and sat on the examination table.

"Remove your hood and coat, Baron."

Konrad hesitated.

"Now."

As he did so, Konrad felt ashamed. When Gupte looked up at him, she paused momentarily, then resumed her examination in a detached clinical manner, checking his pulse, eyes, mouth, teeth, breathing, hands, etc. When she touched parts of his chest he flinched.

"Some bruising here on and near your eye," she noted. "Been in a fight, I take it?"

Jurgen looked at Konrad expectantly for an explanation. He didn't bother answering. Continuing on dispassionately with the examination, Gupte gave no indications of disgust, fear, wonder, or intrigue. Nothing. She was like a machine in human skin.

Once she finished, she stepped back, making notes.

"I'll have to admit, your case is interesting," she said casually.

"Is it something that can be treated with gene therapy?" Konrad asked.

"Too early to tell," she said as she went over to a cabinet, taking out a syringe. "I'll need to take some samples from you in order to get a better understanding of your condition before I can prescribe a suitable treatment plan."

Konrad growled.

"I hate needles," he said.

"Oh don't be such a baby, Herr Baron," Gupte said as she approached him with syringe in hand. "It'll only take a moment."

* * *

Konrad sat alone at the long dining room table, rubbing his sore arm as he waited for his dinner, his hood pulled down.

Jurgen appeared with a plate covered by a steel cloche. Placing it down in front of Konrad, he pulled the steel covering away to reveal his supper - maple salmon with asparagus, cut-up carrots and celery.

Konrad growled.

"Again!" he said in exasperation.

"It's healthy for you, Herr Baron," Jurgen replied.

"Is it too much to ask for a steak?"

"Not with your weight. You need to cut back."

"I'm not a damn seal, Jurgen!"

"Herr Baron, you'll thank me, now eat."

The aristocrat fumed as he cut into his fish, muttering under his breath.

As he ate in silence, Jurgen spoke.

"Are you going to explain how you got those injuries?"

Konrad sighed.

"Not now, Jurgen."

"Then when?" the servant demanded.

"Any time but now, I'm eating!"

The two were quiet for a moment.

"How was the meeting?"

Konrad gave a half-shrug.

"Typical," he replied, then gave a sigh. "Well, I had to scrap the Kilgore project, and now I need to think of a replacement to fill that void, plus ratings for the Killer Instinct program haven't been great lately. Kellog's wondering if I intend on renewing the copyright."

"Are you?"

"I intend to wait and see. I have something special planned for this final episode tonight at nine o'clock."

Jurgen sighed, shaking his head wearily.

"You just don't let things go, do you?" he said. "To be honest with you, Herr Baron, I think you would be better off just having the show cancelled."

"Why?" Konrad demanded.

"Well what is the point of having it?"

"I could say the same thing about various other shows, including those featuring such intellectual giants as "Snooki"!"

"Herr Baron. Be straight with me."

Konrad exhaled through his nostrils, setting his fork down with a clatter.

"There was a time, Jurgen, when I used to be in the ring," he said. "There was a time when people - men, women and children, - used to know and cheer my name and made me feel like I was a hero, like I was capable of taking on the world itself. Like I was unbreakable. Free. There was a time when I had lived for nothing else but the fight itself, and I loved every moment of it. I can't do any of that anymore. You don't know what I would give just to be in the ring again."

Jurgen gave him a pitying look.

"Maybe it's for the best that you couldn't, Herr Baron. Not everything lasts forever." the servant said.

Konrad harrumphed.

"That's the problem, Jurgen," he replied.

He sat quietly for a moment.

"There were also other reasons why I want to do this, Jurgen. Why I _need_ to do this."

"And what's that?"

He sighed.

"I want to be viewed as legitimate, Jurgen. I want the tournament to have that same level of success and prestige that other martial arts programs have and enjoy. I want to prove that I'm not some sort of failure and that the reason for KI's success had nothing to do with its sordid origins."

Konrad glanced down grimly, his features entirely concealed in shadow.

"Well," he said quietly, "I suppose you are right, alter Freund. There is no point for me in renewing the trademark. It's not like I'd be able to participate anyway. Not like this. I'll call David after the show's over and let him know."

He resumed eating quietly as Jurgen stood beside him.

* * *

Once he finished, Konrad sat in his private den upstairs, the fireplace crackling away as he tested the strings of his stadivarius violin with his bow, making sure it was properly tuned, turning the pegs when he felt that a wire was too loose.

Somewhere outside, a wolf howled.

Crows cawed loudly and bats squeaked as the wind whistled against the castle walls, causing window shutters outside to rock loudly from their frames.

Once he was satisfied, he positioned the violin on his left shoulder, his elbow under the instrument's center. With his bow, Konrad repeated a note several times before finally moving onto the rest of the melody as the various sounds outside joined him in symphony.* He was lost in the music when the door opened, startling him. He calmed down upon recognizing Dieter.

"Dieter, for fuck's sake!" Konrad hissed. "Don't you know how to knock?!"

"Sorry." the bodyguard said as he eyed the instrument in his hand. "I just heard the music and wondered who was playing. I didn't expect it to be you, Baron."

Konrad grunted.

"Don't be so surprised, Dieter." the aristocrat said. "There was a time, you know, when I had wanted to be a musician and a songwriter."

"Really?" Dieter asked with interest.

"Oh yes. It was a schoolboy fancy. I wanted to be a lot of things growing up. I dabbled in drawing, painting, sculpting, swimming, sailing, the violin. The organ."

"Have you wrote any songs?"

"Several, but they were all dreadful."

"Do you mind if I listen?"

Konrad shrugged.

"If you wish."

He then played the tune again as Dieter listened in concentration. After three minutes of playing, he finished.

Dieter nodded.

"It's good," he said. "What is it called?"

 _"'Zahn und Klaue',"_ Konrad said. "It's a work in progress."

"I think I detect a slight element of Camille Saint-Saens' "Danse Macabre" with Bach's "Toccata and Fugue in D Minor?"

"Ah! So you know your music! And here I thought you Americans were culturally illiterate!" Konrad said jokingly.

"Oh yeah, we're just big ole water-heads!" Dieter said in an exaggerated Southern drawl. "We only just done figured out that this here weird-lookin' stick with a string or two warrn't made for good eatin'! 'Sides they always got done stuck on our lips. We got confused why we heard noises every time we done slammed it into our faces. Bob fig'red that it was jus' the cat."

The aristocrat laughed heartily, a harsh sound to most except those familiar and used to him.

"Amused?"

"Very." he replied as he wiped his eyes and settled back down.

"What's the occasion for doing it now?" Dieter asked.

Konrad sighed.

"I read an article in a newspaper about how creativity and exercising different parts of the brain by doing different activities can help fend off dementia and Alzheimer's."

"But you don't have either, Baron."

"No," Konrad admitted, "but it's close. Worse, in my opinion. Sometimes I forget things, Dieter, and I worry that I do things without ever realizing it. So, I've been practicing. I've been doing lots of crosswords since they're an excellent stimulant, practiced other languages, some painting..."

"Painting?!" Dieter exclaimed, startled.

Konrad harrumphed.

"Well, not anymore. It's bloody irritating and difficult getting oil and acrylic paints off skin and fur."

He narrowed his eyes.

"What happened with Ferris?" he asked.

"He's in the toolshed," the bodyguard replied. "Don't worry - all the tools are out his reach and he's bound and gagged up tight. "

"Has he eaten?"  
"He refuses to."

Konrad growled.

"We need to figure out what to do with him, Baron, and fast." Dieter said.

"No shit, Sherlock!"

"So what do you propose?"

"I don't know."

"Well, you better think of something, otherwise the police will end up on your doorstep."

"Ja, ja I know," Konrad said irritably. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to be left alone."

Dieter gave a nod in acknowledgement, then turned around to exit, briefly pausing at the door.

"Konrad."

The aristocrat glanced up in surprise.

"Yes?"

"Thank you," the bodyguard said, "for helping me out back there."

With that final note, Dieter departed, leaving Konrad to his thoughts.

* * *

 _"Even a man who is pure_

 _in heart_

 _And says his prayers by night,_

 _May become a wolf_

 _when the wolfbane blooms_

 _And the Autumn moon_

 _is bright."_

The empty bottle smashed against the projection screen as Evelyn Ankers finished reciting the poem to Lon Chaney Jr, crashing loudly against the wall.

"Fuck you, Siodmak," Konrad said as he drank from his wine glass while seated in a chair in his bedroom, his coat discarded.

The knock came.

"Come in," he called.

Jurgen entered.

"I heard a crash, what happ-" he drifted off upon seeing the broken glass that littered the floor. "I told you to keep off the damn wine."

Konrad didn't answer. He continued watching "The Wolf Man" in silence as Jurgen briefly disappeared, then returned back with a dust pan and gathered up the broken pieces of glass.

"You like this movie, Herr Baron?" the servant asked.

"Don't be stupid!" the aristocrat spat as he turned off the projector. "Shitty American garbage. Every single one of those movies."

"Then why do you watch it?"

"To checkmark what they got wrong." Konrad replied as he took another drink.

Jurgen stomped toward him and grabbed hold of the glass. The two grunted with exertion as they struggled for a few minutes until Jurgen yanked it away violently.

"Give that back, Jurgen," Konrad said in a low, threatening voice.

"You've had enough!" the servant said as made his way to the bathroom.

"I said give it back!"

"No!"

Konrad got up and followed after Jurgen, but by the time he got to him, the servant had already dumped the drink into the sink.

Konrad stood there, trembling with rage. Curling his clawed fingers into fists, he twisted around and punched the wall angrily.

Leaning his head against it, he took several deep breaths.

"Herr Konrad-" Jurgen said quietly.

"Get out." Konrad ordered.

"It was for your own good."

"I said GET OUT!"

The servant stood there for a moment, then headed back to the door.

"If you want to make your nine o'clock program at the Stadium in Munich, you'll need to leave soon." Jurgen said coolly as he departed. "Traffic will be a bitch at this hour."

"I know that, just FUCK OFF!" Konrad growled.

The door slammed angrily against its frame, leaving the aristocrat alone in his bedroom to wrestle with his inner demons in anguish.

* * *

The limo glided along the highway as other vehicles noisily passed and were passed by. A group of kids on motorcycles raced dangerously at high speeds, nearly scraping the limo, causing it to swerve unsteadily as they left behind a blazing trail from their taillights.

"VERDAMMTE IDIOTEN! LERN ZU FAHREN!" Heinrich shouted through the open window.

One of the kids, a smug little bastard in a red jacket, gave him the middle finger as he rode further ahead, disappearing into the horizon line.

Heinriche shook his head.

"Fucking kids," he said under his breath. "Not even wearing goddamn helmets."

"Don't you know, Heinrich?" Dieter said. "It's the in-thing to be road kill."

"I suppose," Heinrich replied.

"What I want to know," Michael said, "is the big surprise Herr Baron's been hinting at with his tournament."

All eyes turned in the Baron's direction upon the mention.

He shrugged.

"Well, I suppose now would be the perfect time to fill you all in on the big secret," Konrad said as he leaned back in his seat. "Through a friend of a friend, I was able to get a big name celebrity in the fighting circuit to come join our tournament. One _Max Carnage_."

The men were awestruck the moment the name was mentioned.

"Fuck off!" Dieter swore. "You're messing with us!"

"Absolutely not."

"Max Carnage?"

"Yes."

 _"Max Carnage?"_

"Yes, Dieter."

" _Max fucking "Carnage" Carnegie?!_ The undefeated UFC world champion from Ireland?!"

"The one and the same."

"And you managed to get him?!"

"I had. Even more, I asked him and his manager to meet you all in person to get their autographs after the program's over."

The entire vehicle erupted with loud cheering and whooping. Dieter practically flew from his seat, startling the Baron as he gave him a strong bear hug, cutting off all circulation in his torso, practically choking the aristocrat while laughing like a child that's been told that he's about to visit Santa's workshop at the North Pole.

"Konrad you fat hairy weasel, I could kiss you!" Dieter said giddily.

"Dieter! I can't breathe!" Konrad gasped.

"Whoah, sorry, Baron!" the bodyguard as he released his hold, pulling away.

Konrad coughed several times. Lawrence patted him on the back. Raising a hand, the bodyguard stopped as the aristocrat took in several deep breaths. When Konrad recovered, he glanced to everyone in the limo.

"Gentlemen, for years you've all served me with dedication and honor. As payment for your unflinching loyalty, for always being by my side and never betraying my trust, I give you this gift. May you all enjoy it."

"Thank you, sir!" the men said in unison.

Beneath his hood, Konrad gave a small smile as the limo continued on to Munich.

* * *

The building where the Killer Instinct tournament was held was a large five story white dome that was highlighted by the bright neon signs and spotlights that waved around in the air outside on the roof.

Originally a basket ball court, the indoor arena had been bought, converted and outfitted at a cheaper price by Ultratech's shell companies.

Although not as immensely popular as other martial arts tournaments such as the UFC or the Pride Fighting Championships, the tournament did garner something of a dedicated cult following, although Konrad wasn't certain if that would be considered a "good" thing.

He had partially suspected that the real reason it was being such had less to do with the appreciation of martial arts so much as it was some of his notoriety rubbing off onto the tournament itself.

Even though he went to extraordinary lengths trying to keep his scandalous exploits a secret, and for the most part had succeeded, there were some miasmatic aftereffects that Konrad never really accounted for at the time.

Even though the tournament itself was legitimate, not many of the other players on the tournament scene regarded KI, if at all.

A few treated the mere mention of it with disgust and snide commentary.

Often it was those that indulged in the grotesque, the macabre, that took an interest, discussing some of the supposed rumors surrounding the tournament, whether it was regarding its origins and history or the Baron himself.

For all of his efforts to make something legitimate for himself, it was the illegitimate aspects that kept drawing people in. Charles Dickens had said it best when he brought up the attraction of repulsion.

 _'This time will be different, though'_ , Konrad thought.

With the addition of a major heavy hitter like Max Carnage on the scene, it was bound to make waves, and Konrad was eager to be there to see it happen.

* * *

"Thank god for reserved parking," Dieter said as he wheeled Konrad into an elevator.

Pressing the button for the second floor, the men watched as the door closed, then waited.

There was a slight hum, followed by a ding and a blinking light, signalling their arrival. Exiting the elevator, the group were greeted by a smiling man dressed in a blue uniform with a cap, accompanied by two other security guards.

"Ah! Baron Von Sabrewulf!" the man said as he reached out his hand. "Welcome to the Killer Instinct tournament."

Taking it into his own, Konrad gave him a firm handshake.

"Good to see you, Mr. Richter," he said, then nodded to the security guards as he shook theirs. "Hermann. Johan."

"It's a pleasure to meet you again, sir." Hermann said excitedly.

"Is everything ready?" Konrad asked.

"Everything is in order, Baron." Richter assured. "Follow me to your booth, gentlemen."

The group followed Richter down an empty hallway to the right before turning to face the third door on their left.

Taking out a key card, Richter slipped it through a slot, then watched as the door's red light flicked to green.

Upon opening the door, the lights flickered on as the group made their way into Konrad's private booth, a specially designed balcony that directly overlooked the arena with a one-way mirror that prevented audiences from peering in, granting the aristocrat security and privacy.

A comfortable leisure suite that was white with clean modern furniture with red supple leather couches, it also had a private bar with a counter, various bottles of alcoholic and non-alcoholic beverages on display at the side, a table at the center with four chairs, and an intercom on the wall near the door.

Once the bodyguards finished checking it over for anything suspicious or potentially hazardous, Dieter gave a thumbs up.

"All clear."

"Will you gentlemen be dining?" Richter asked.

"No, thank you." Konrad replied.

"Well, if you need anything, just press the intercom and we'll send someone up." he said, then reached into his back pocket. "Also, as requested, we have brought you two portable PMR446 walkie talkies for your security concerns. Our radio channel is on two. The film crew's on three. Control room press box is on five. Care to test it out?"

Konrad took hold of one radio, passing the other to Dieter, adjusted the settings, then pressed the call button.

"Testing, testing, one-two, one-two." he spoke into the receiver while Dieter and the security guards checked theirs.

"Copy." Johan said.

Hermann gave him a thumbs up.

Konrad changed channel.

"Felix, are you there?" he asked.

"Who is this?" the voice demanded.

"Good to hear your voice, mein freund."

"Baron! Ah, I'm sorry, I didn't realize it's you. How can I help?"

"What's your status?"

"Everything is going well so far.

"Has Eagle arrived?" Konrad asked

"Yes sir. From what I heard from Collins, he's just getting changed. I think his manager went out for a cigarette," Felix said.

 _'That's one,'_ he thought.

"And our celebrity guest Mister Carnegie?"

"We haven't heard from him yet."

"What about his manager?"

"We haven't seen him either. I'm sure they'll make it, Baron, don't you worry."

"I hope so," Konrad said. "Take care, Felix."

Looking to Richter, he gave a satisfactory nod.

"Everything looks good so far."

"Excellent!" Richter said, clapping his hands together. "I hope you all enjoy this evening."

Once he and the guards departed, Dieter closed the door, then turned back to the bar.

"Hello, beautiful," he said to a bottle of beer.

Pulling off the lid, he took a swig while the others made themselves at home in the booth, relaxing on the couches.

"Do you want a drink, Baron?" Dieter asked.

"Absolutely." Konrad replied.

"Red wine coming up!"

Once he finished pouring into a glass, Dieter gave Konrad his drink.

"Thank you."

Dieter raised his bottle.

"Cheers." he said as they clinked glasses.

* * *

Konrad stared out through the one way mirror at the rest of the stadium, taking note of the massive throng of people that filled the seats.

Several were holding cans of beer while others had some sort of confection in hand, sometimes a hot dog or a pizza. Service androids wandered along the aisles with trays of food as a few people pelted them with bits of kernel.

One or two people were escorted out by security guards while another, more violent incident between two or three other people resulted in a couple of Theseus androids being brought in to quell the troublemakers.

The aristocrat shook his head.

Around the arena was a film crew getting their equipment ready.

Konrad nervously took out his cellphone and checked the time. It was almost nine. The program was going to start soon.

Dieter sat casually at the table behind the Baron with his back facing him, his overcoat and hat hanging from the chair, playing cards with Lawrence, Roger and Michael, smoking a cigarette. The bodyguard could always be relied upon to have a deck of cards somewhere on his person.

"You're not going to let me gamble with you?" Konrad asked.

"Nope," Dieter said as he placed down a card.

"And why not?"

"'Cause you're a shit gambler," the bodyguard said bluntly without even looking at him.

"Oh come on! I'm not that bad!" Konrad insisted.

"Fellas, you gonna back me up on this?"

None came to his aid, instead remaining silent.

"Chicken bastards," he grumbled to Konrad's amusement.

"Ladies and gentlemen, the main program will begin shortly," a man's voice said over the arena speakers. "Please enjoy the pre-tournament show."

Upon hearing that, Dieter whirled around in interest.

"OHHH Hell yes!" he said as he pulled his chair to the window.

The arena suddenly went dark as club music started playing. When the spotlights flashed on, a group of women in dark, tight sleeveless bodysuits were at the arena's center, dancing and twirling seductively to the beat of the tune.

"WHOO!" Konrad heard Dieter cry out along with several others. "YEAH, BABY!"

Konrad turned to the bodyguard, raising an eyebrow at him.

Dieter shrugged.

"I love pre-tournament shows." he said with a wolfish grin.

The aristocrat shook his head.

"Fucking typical."

The song and dance continued for at least a minute, if not two, with Dieter riveted, watching the dancers lasciviously.

"Yoo-hoo!" Konrad heard someone call from below.

"Oh no," Michael groaned.

"What?" Konrad said.

"There!" he pointed.

The dancers stopped their routine as an overweight naked man with a mustache ran out across the arena.

At first startled by the sight, the women burst out laughing with the rest of the audience, doubling over as they clutched their sides, a few turning away in embarrassment. Two women were stunned speechless.

Dieter glanced at his associates.

"Is it casual Friday?" he asked.

"Hellooo, ladies!" the nude man waved as he strutted proudly. On the TV screens overhead, his groin and buttocks were a block of pixels.

"ARE YOU SERIOUS?!" the aristocrat yelled angrily.

Grabbing the radio, Konrad raised it up and adjusted the channel, trembling with anger.

"Richter," he said in a normal voice before blasting loudly and furiously into the speaker, "WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON DOWN THERE?! ARE YOU SEEING THIS?! I WANT THAT BASTARD OUT OF HERE, NOW!"

"Security's been notified, sir!" Richter crackled from the other end.

Below, the fat man started running around the arena, flapping his arms wildly as he was chased by a group of security guards.

"NOBODY CAN CATCH THE BIRD MAN!" the streaker yelled.

That declaration caused Michael, Roger and Lawrence to snort and laugh quietly as he ran around the stadium like a headless chicken pursued by security personnel before disappearing from sight through one of the fighters' alley entrances. The dancers were long gone, having apparently decided that their dance number was over and that they didn't need to be spectators to the lunatic's performance.

A few minutes later, Richter spoke from the radio.

"We got him."

"How did this happen, Richter?!" Konrad growled. "Just what the fuck were your security staff doing?! DO YOU HAVE ANY IDEA HOW BAD THIS MAKES ME LOOK?! FUCKING DISGRACEFUL!"

"Baron, I-I-I am so sorry about this. I promise you I'll look into the matter."

"So will I, and I promise _you_ , Richter, there will be _blood_ when I find the fuckoff responsible!" the aristocrat said in gritted teeth before putting away the radio.

Dieter sighed.

"This is why we can't have nice things," he said ruefully.

As the stadium began to settle down, the lights started to dim.

"Welcome!" a cold, sinister, distorted, modulated and mechanical voice with a haunting echo said through the arena speakers.

People cheered as they heard the menacing voice of Chris Sutherland.

From the speakers, synthesizers hummed a low, crisp, ominous and brooding tune while the opening sequence played on TV screens directly over the arena itself, which consisted of metallic fonts over a black background.

A lone electric guitar started playing while an anvil clanged in accompaniment, the music continuing to build until finally the highly stylized and metallic title fonts appeared.

"Killer Instinct!" the sinister-sounding voice announced in conjunction with a solo guitar riff.

"I gotta hand it to you, Baron," Dieter said as the song played, "hiring Beanland to do the music has been one of the best decisions you made."

Konrad grunted.

Once the song finished, the commentators spoke through the microphone as a new tune replaced it, a slow, orchestrated piece that was oddly reminiscent to the ticking of some gigantic clock that counted down ominously each time it clanged.

"Good evening, everyone, and welcome to the final episode of Killer Instinct!" a man said. "I'm Paul Krieger, and joining me today for commentating is the one and only Jesse Ventura!"

The stadium erupted with cheers.

"How are you doing, Jesse?" Krieger asked.

"Absolutely fantastic, Paul." Jesse Ventura said. "We have a very exciting show tonight that I am looking forward to!"

"So am I, Jesse." Krieger agreed. "It is going to be one hell of a fight tonight. Let's see who the contestants are. Going to you, Robert!"

As "Robert" began the introduction, the music in the background was replaced with an EDM-based trance track complete with a didgeridoo and chanting in the background.

"In one corner, standing at six-one at a hundred and ninety pounds, hailing from the Nez Perce Tribe of Idaho is our reigning champion, EAGLE!"

Dashing quickly from an alley entrance and moving to the beat, the fighter leapt high and maneuvering himself through the air like an expert trapeze artist to the center of the arena, the crowd cheering as he gave a radiant white smile, his arms open and outstretched to the sky.

A moderately tall but lean man of in his twenties, Eagle was a strikingly handsome figure with mirth-filled eyes and mouth, a long aquiline nose with high cheekbones and long black hair that was braided, each strand draped over his shoulder.

Dressed in blue jeans, his torso was shirtless, exposing his dark skin, his chest and left arm painted with something red and stylized. Part of his face, his forehead, one section of his eye and cheek, also had red paint on it, but no matter how hard he looked, Konrad was never able to get a sense of what the markings meant or were supposed to represent. He wondered if it was something specific and symbolic to the young man and his tribe or if it was just a fancy design that he came up with on his own.

Eagle first appeared on the scene in 2012, a highly intelligent, charismatic personality with a wonderful sense of theatricality, a strong flair for the dramatic and humor that made him a favorite among audiences.

This popularity, however, had proved especially troublesome; by using it as a platform, Eagle rallied against Ultratech in interviews and on social media, bringing to light the embarrassing fact that one of their factories in the Idaho region was repeatedly fined for polluting the native lands.

The Board Members wanted to get rid of him due to the fact that he was turning public opinion against the company, but Konrad, being the majority shareholder, denied their vote.

For one, Eagle was a very popular figure, one of the most popular the tournament has had in ages - removing him would be disastrous for the company and for ratings, and every bit of currency mattered.

Second, Konrad had liked the young Native American; in a lot of ways, he had reminded the Baron of himself when he was younger.

The main reason, however, unknown to the rest of the Board Members themselves, was that at the time Konrad had a use for Eagle; apparently he had an older brother of some influence, a "tooat" or medicine man, if those were even the proper words for it in the Nez Perce and English languages.

Unfortunately, due to schedules and the worsening of his condition, he hadn't been able to get into contact with the young Native American, let alone his elder sibling. If he were to persuade them both into offering him some insight about the weyekin or "spirit guide", if not a way to cure him of his dreadful malady, then maybe...

Maybe...

Konrad heaved a heavy sigh.

What the hell was he thinking?

Why does he keep doing this to himself?

Konrad felt ashamed of himself; the idea of extorting a people victimized by one of his own companies' factories was repugnant.

As he watched the young Native American smiling, waving at the audiences, talking and laughing with the interviewers, Konrad felt his stomach churn.

He _was_ getting worse, and it nearly cost him his soul.

Jurgen was right about everything. There's no such thing as magic. There are no "weyekins" or spirits or any of that airy fairy crap. It had all been a waste of time, money and resources.

Konrad reached into the pockets of his cloak and pulled out the items that he had bought earlier onto his blanket-covered lap, eyeing each object with disdain.

He was going to put an end to this.

It was all a mistake, a horrible, costly mistake that was going to put him into prison.

Grabbing the items, he lifted them, fully prepared to smash them violently down onto the floor when he stopped halfway, his attention fixed on the noises in the stadium. The audiences were booing and the announcers were trying to calm them down. Lowering the relics and scrolls down onto his lap, Konrad peered through the one-way mirror.

Carnegie wasn't at the arena.

Putting the items back into his pockets, Konrad raised up the radio.

"Felix, are you there?" he said into the speaker.

"Yes, Baron." Came the reply.

"Where the hell is Carnegie?!" the Baron demanded.

"We don't know, sir. We're trying to look for him."

"Have you found his manager?"

"No, sir, we're still trying to find him. We have no idea where they are."

Konrad snarled as he turned the channel. Speaking of costly mistakes, indeed.

"Richter! Have you or any of the guards seen Mister Carnegie or his manager on any of the security cameras?"

"Unfortunately not, sir." Richter answered.

"Get someone down to the confection stands, nearby coffee shops, bars, wherever! I want them found as soon as possible."

"Jawohl."

Konrad lowered the radio, turning to his bodyguard.

"Dieter, I want you and Lawrence to check the parking lots outside for them both." he ordered. "Roger and Michael will stay here with me."

"Are you sure, sir?" Dieter asked as he put on his hat and overcoat.

"Damn sure, now go!"

"Yes sir." the bodyguards replied as they exited the room.

Konrad took out his cellphone from his pant pocket, dialling the number for Carnegie's manager.

He sat waiting until an automated voice told him to leave a message after the beep.

"Dan, where are you?" Konrad said into the speaker. "I have seven thousand people waiting over here and you two are nowhere to be seen! Call me the moment you hear this message and let me know what is going on."

He sat back in the wheelchair, nervously drumming his fingers against the armrests.

* * *

Cigarette smoke trailed out from Dieter's lips as he surveyed the outside parking lot.

Though lit by lamp lights, the street was still too dark for his tastes, the colors washed out and replaced with orange hues. There were dozens of cars about along with a toll booth further down while nearby were some dumpsters that smelled absolutely rank and overflowing with garbage bags.

Curling his nostrils in disgust, he swore.

He and Lawrence had checked with the guard at the toll booth, but he hadn't seen Carnegie around.

The only thing either found was a couple making out in a car, a flasher and a chill as the wind picked up. The storm was catching up with them.

"Where the fuck is he?" Lawrence asked.

"Good question," Dieter said as flicked away his cigarette. "The Baron's going to be pissed. _Uber_ pissed."

His associate shivered at the mention.

"Let's get out of here."

* * *

"Dan, it's Baron Von Sabrewulf again. Please tell me that you are close by. Call me back as soon as you can."

Hanging up, the aristocrat picked up the radio again.

"Richter," he said, "tell me you have found them."

"No sir," Richter responded.

"Check the washrooms. Every office, every closet, I don't care! Do whatever it takes to find Carnegie!"

* * *

Dieter huffed in irritation.

He and Lawrence had finished checking the other parking lots, and yet still no trace of Max Carnage.

"Like trying to find the fuckin' snark," he said aloud.

"The what?" Lawrence asked in confusion.

"Never mind," the bodyguard said as he raised up his radio. "Baron, do you read?"

"It better be good news, Dieter." Came the reply.

"We haven't found them yet. We're heading to the last parking lot. If we don't find him there, we'll check the change rooms."

"If you don't find them, don't bother calling." Konrad snarled.

As Dieter put away the radio, Lawrence shook his head uneasily.

"He really is pissed." he said.

"More than pissed," Dieter corrected. "I reckon the Baron's gettin' ready to put someone's head on a stake."

* * *

"Dan, _where the fuck are you?!"_ Konrad hissed the latter part angrily into the cellphone. "I have called you five times now and I am running out of patience. Do I need to remind you of the contracts that you both wrote?! If Carnegie doesn't get his coke-sniffing ass here this instant, I expect to be reimbursed! Otherwise, I will have my lawyers hunt you down!"

Konrad had to stop himself from breaking the cellphone in his hands.

Picking up the radio, he spoke into the radio again.

"Richter!"

"Our staff has found a couple making love in one of the offices, but aside from that, still no sign of Carnegie."

"Keep searching!" Konrad seethed into the radio. Putting it down, he leaned back in his chair and sighed.

The radio beeped again.

"Baron are you there?"

Dieter.

Changing the channel, Konrad pressed into the call button.

"WHAT?!" he demanded.

"We've found Carnegie's car, Baron!"

The news made him pause.

"Are you sure?"

"Absolutely. It's in one of the parking lots at the back!"

Konrad sighed. Finally, some good news.

"Is he there?"

"Negative on that, but he's definitely here somewhere. Lawrence and I are coming in to check the change rooms. We'll call you as soon as we see him. Over and-"

"Dieter! Over there!" Konrad heard Lawrence in the background.

"What the hell," the bodyguard muttered.

There was some rustling and some murmuring.

"Dieter! What's going on? Talk to me, Dieter!"

"Ah hell," Dieter swore.

"What?!"

The radio was silent for a moment. A few minutes later, Dieter picked up again.

"We've found Eagle's manager, Baron. He's dead."

Roger and Michael turned their heads over to the radio upon hearing that.

"Dead?"

"Yeah. We found his foot sticking out from some bushes. I called the police and an ambulance, they should be around in a moment. I don't see any blood or anything. It looks like a heart attack."

Konrad exhaled through his nostrils.

"Yes," he said in recollection, "he had mentioned something about having a weak heart the last time I talked with him. Damn."

The radio was quiet for a moment, then picked up again.

"There's more."

Konrad scowled.

"What?!" he said impatiently.

"From the expression on his face, it almost...looks like he had died of fright."


	5. Chapter Four: Spinal

**Songs: "Warlord" by Mick Gordon and "Spinal's Komplete Dynamic Theme"**

 **Chapter Four: Spinal**

 **"A 'scream' is always just that - a noise and not music." -** Carl Jung

Once security personnel had arrived to guard the body, Dieter and Lawrence went into the building through the back entrance.

* * *

Dieter scanned the changing room.

"Mister Carnegie!" he called.

"Mister Carnegie!" Lawrence repeated.

Illuminated by several white overhead fluorescent lights were several columns and rows of lockers and benches. Despite the clean white tiled floors, the wooden benches, the white sterile walls, and the distinctive smell of aerosol fresheners, the place still smelled like BO. Moving along the mid section of various rows of lockers and benches, the duo continued their search until they noticed two peculiar and puzzling deformities to this largely unmarked room - a five foot wide hole that was six or so feet deep with debris littered across the tiles and an overhead lamp that swung noisily and flickered repeatedly.

"What the fuck happened _here_?" Dieter puzzled as he kneeled down to examine the hole.

"An exploded gas pipe, perhaps?" Lawrence suggested.

Dieter gave him a doubtful look.

"Really? Without taking down the rest of the building and without us noticing?" the bodyguard said as he went back to examining the curiosity. "No, Larry. Besides, there's no scorch marks here, nor do I smell gas."

Still, it did look like _something_ erupted out and damaged one of the overhead lights.

Dieter picked up his radio.

* * *

Konrad heard the radio beep.

"Yes?" he said into the speaker.

"Dieter here. Lawrence and I are at one of the changing rooms. There's something weird over here."

The aristocrat was about to ask him to clarify when he saw a silhouette of someone standing at fighters' alley opposite of Eagle's.

"About bloody time!" Konrad said aloud, then changed channels. "Control room, do you read?"

"Yes Baron."

"Carnegie's arrived. Start the intro."

* * *

"Baron? Baron, are you there?"

Dieter was about to repeat when he heard the announcer.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, Max Carnegie has entered the building!"

The bodyguard sighed.

"Well, looks like the show will go on," he said irritably. "And we missed our opportunity to meet the champ."

"We'll get another chance after the show, Dieter," Lawrence said as he clapped him on the shoulder. "Besides, we should check around and make sure there aren't any other holes."

Dieter nodded.

"Good idea."

The duo wandered along the rows of lockers, checking the walls, floors and ceilings when Lawrence slipped.

"Fuck!" he yelled as he hit the floor hard.

"Lawrence!" Dieter cried as he bent down. "Are you okay?"

His associate groaned.

"Yeah, I'm fine." he said as Dieter pulled him up to his feet.

"Aw fuck," the latter swore. "I need you to sit back down, Larry."

"What? Why?"

"You're bleeding."

Lawrence gave him a startled look.

"What?" he said as he glanced down at himself, then paused as he spotted red on his pant leg. He shook his head. "That's not me, Dieter."

The two men glanced around, then stopped upon seeing the red marks that stained the white floor. Following the trail, the duo headed toward the showers until they both stopped cold in their tracks.

"HOLY CHRIST!"

* * *

When the announcer called out Carnegie's name, the figure walked toward the arena, the speakers blazing away with some death metal soundtrack with some unintelligible singer.

Konrad watched as Carnegie faltered and stumbled.

"Oh no," he growled.

"What's wrong with him?" Michael asked.

"It looks like the fucker is inebriated," Konrad said as he continued to watch the figure.

Crashing clumsily against the wall, Carnegie leaned against it for a moment, then pushed himself back up.

Exhaling, Konrad raised up the radio, changing the channels.

"Felix, you there?"

"We're here, Baron." Came the reply.

"Shut down the broadcast," he ordered. "Mister Carnegie's drunk."

"Are you sure, Baron?" Felix asked. "To me it looks like he might be hurt."

Konrad continued watching Carnegie as he lurched toward the arena, his entire person shrouded in shadow, looking around, then halted. For a moment, it almost seemed as if the fighter was staring _directly_ at him, which was impossible due to the one-way mirror.

"Stand by in case we're in need of medical assistance," he called into the radio.

"Jawohl."

The figure stood there for a long time, staring in his direction. The more Konrad stared back, the more unsettled he became.

Something was off.

As Carnegie lurched out from the shadows, Konrad did a double-take as the man stopped just outside the alley entrance.

"Jesus," Roger breathed.

Bare-chested with an armband on his right arm and military fatigue-styled pants with huge combat boots, Carnegie was a hulking brute of a man with the body of a thickly muscled bear that stood at six-eight. Bald with a broken nose, his face reminded Konrad of a tiger's. On his chest was a Celtic-styled cross tattoo with intricate lines, a recurring motif that ringed around both the man's eyes and was displayed prominently on his back. As far as fighters were concerned, Carnegie may not have been the brightest of individuals, but as far as appearances were concerned, he was one of the most intimidating looking with a ferocity to match.

But the Carnegie that Konrad saw now was different. He still looked like the same fellow, but his skin was sickly pale and yellow. Even more, he had a strange glassy stare, a stare that was completely at odds with the fiery personality Carnegie was known to have.

"What the hell happened to him?" Roger asked. "Do you think he is sick?"

Before Konrad could answer, his cellphone went off. Checking the call display, he blinked as he saw Dieter's name.

"Yes?" he answered.

"Baron, it's Dieter." Konrad was put off by the alarm in his voice. In the background, he heard someone retching violently.

"What's wrong?" Konrad asked.

"It's Carnegie! Lawrence and I found his manager dead in the shower."

"WHAT?!" he yelled into the phone, causing Roger and Michael to look up startled.

"He killed him, Baron! I think the guy's on something, there's blood everywhere and the body's been completely mutilated! You need to shut down the program NOW!"

Konrad hung up the phone, his heart throbbing loudly in his head.

"Herr Baron?" Michael said quietly.

The aristocrat raised up the radio, changing channels.

"Felix, are you there?" he said.

"Yes Baron," Felix answered.

"Shut down the program."

"What?"

"Shut down the program and get security down there _immediately_ , Carnegie's on something. Also call the goddamn police."

"The _police_? Why-"

"JUST DO IT!"

As he released the call button, Konrad continued watching the scene before him.

Carnegie was staring around him, turning his head slowly in one direction, then the other. Looking straight ahead to Eagle, Konrad watched as the Irish fighter pulled his lips back into a hideous grin that made him flinch in disgust. It was at that moment that the death metal-styled tune was abruptly cut off completely; in its place was a bagpipe that played two long notes repeatedly. By the ninth note, Carnegie started to slowly walk towards Eagle, saying something, but it was impossible to tell what was being said. Konrad's ear twitched.

"Listen." he said in a hushed tone.

Roger and Michael gave him a curious look.

"What are you-"

"Shh!" He interrupted, tilting his head in concentration. Both bodyguards unconsciously followed suite.

It was barely even audible, but they heard it just the same.

Whispering. Or rather, quiet chanting that repeated the second verse repeatedly, then repeated the previous verse again at slightly louder volumes, building more and more each time. Konrad heard a strange wailing noise in the background. At first he thought that it was wind, but as the chanting continued building up, the more dread weighed down upon Konrad. He felt physically ill the more he listened. He was certain that they were screams. Screams of fear, screams of agony, screams of rage, screams of insanity, screams of laughter. Nonstop crying. Men, women, children. Voices of the damned. It was as if someone had decided to place a microphone by the gates of Hell and record the awful racket that went on down below. Konrad raised the radio.

"Felix, what the hell is going on?" he demanded. "Who's doing that? Why is the broadcast still on?"

"I-I don't know, Baron!" Felix answered bewilderedly.

"What do you mean you don't know?!"

"The equipment isn't responding! I don't know what's happening!" Felix exclaimed.

"Then unplug the damn things!"

"We just did! It's running on its own!"

"BULLSHIT!" Konrad said angrily. "Quit fucking around now or I swear to God that I'll find someone better to replace you."

"And I swear to God, Baron, this is beyond us! We've have nothing to do with this!"

"Have you contacted the police yet?" he asked.

"We can't, the lines are dead!"

"Do you think someone could have hacked the network?" Michael asked quietly.

Konrad shook his head.

"Impossible." he answered. "Felix, I want you to listen close-"

He was cut off as the chanting quadrupled in its intensity, startling everyone, causing several including members of the audience and Michael to cry out in alarm and the Baron to jump in his wheelchair, nearly dropping the walkie-talkie. Recovering quickly from the shock, Konrad raised it up again to his face.

"Felix," he said, but stopped. "Felix?"

The chanting was playing from the radio speaker. Shutting it off, Konrad took out his cellphone from his pant pocket and turned it on, only to be met with more of the chanting.

The screaming or wailing, whatever it was, was gone, but the chanting continued, louder than ever, this time accompanied by the beating of a drum. Konrad was able to hear the lyrics clearly this time along with the chorus of voices that chanted it, deep, dreadful-sounding things that didn't even sound remotely human.

 _ **"Kung och furste.**_  
 _ **Krigare,**_  
 _ **Kejsare,**_  
 _ **Härskar.**_

 _ **Kropp av ben,**_  
 _ **Inget hjärta,**_  
 _ **Döpt i blod.**_  
 _ **Själlös, livlös.**_

 _ **Kropp av ben,**_  
 _ **Inget hjärta,**_  
 _ **Döpt i blod.**_  
 _ **Själlös, livlös."**_

It came from every direction at once, even from directly _behind_ the three men in their private booth.

Stiffening, neither Konrad nor his bodyguards looked to see who or _what_ was chanting in the suite behind them - they kept their eyes squarely on the arena, staring straight ahead to avoid seeing the owners of those horrible voices.

Roger's hand was shakily reaching for his sidearm.

Looking over to the commentators, Konrad saw both men white as ghosts, tense and perplexed by the bizarre music. The audiences were still, almost entranced by the tune. Staring at the massive cluster, Konrad thought that he caught glimpses of something amongst them, but it was just shadows.

At least, he hoped they were.

Glancing back to Carnegie, the more Konrad watched the Irish fighter speak, the more certain he became that the lyrics matched his mouth movements.

Carnegie started walking toward Eagle, who backed away cautiously with each step the Irish fighter made. Security personnel stormed into the arena from the fighters' alley behind Carnegie and called out to him, causing him to pause and hang his head forward, the chanting stopping the moment he had. Something dropped beside his left foot.

"What's that?" Michael asked.

At first, Konrad thought that it was some sort of misshapen snail, a scrunched up bun or a slice of crumpled up pizza that was thrown at the stage by some disgruntled audience member, but as he glanced back to Carnegie, Konrad realized his mistake. It was an ear. Raising his head back up, Carnegie resumed walking towards Eagle, chanting, his lips pulling back into that disgusting, rictus-like smile as he did so. The chanting renewed throughout the arena.

 _ **"Kung och furste,**_  
 _ **Krigare,**_  
 _ **Kejsare,**_  
 _ **Härskare.**_

 _ **Kropp av ben,**_  
 _ **Inget hjärta,**_  
 _ **Döpt i blod,**_  
 _ **Själlös, livlös."**_

As he came closer, a new verse was chanted.

 _ **"Ond Demon,**_  
 _ **Folkets hjälte,**_  
 _ **Hemlös Gud."**_

At that moment, the bagpipe ceased. A drum boomed and a kangling sounded. Carnegie stopped and made a horrible noise, a long, loud inhalation or gasp that both signalled his last breath and the beginning of something. Konrad watched as the horror unfolded before him.

"MEIN GOTT!" he cried.

The disembodied chants repeated one word over and over throughout, accompanied by a percussive instrument, possibly a xylophone.

 ** _"_** _ **Flå**! **flå**_! _**flå**_! ** _"_**

Maggots were starting to crawl out from the man's skin and smiling mouth while pieces of his flesh were falling to the floor.

Rolling his eyes into the back of his head, Carnegie violently convulsed as he took a shaky step forward, his eyeballs dropping out from their sockets onto the piles of offal that gathered by his feet as he gagged and coughed up nonstop streams of worms, struggling to breathe.

People were screaming.

The security personnel turned away, vomiting, prompting other people to join in. Poor Roger was among those as he retched onto the personal booth's carpets, burning Konrad's nostrils and stinking up the air with bile. It took enormous willpower not to join in. Pieces turned into handfuls. Handfuls turned into chunks. The next thing Konrad knew, Carnegie burst into green flame, causing people to scream even louder as the pile beneath ignited with him.

Scrambling for his radio, Konrad flicked through the channels frantically.

"FELIX?! ARE YOU THERE? SOMEONE?! ANYONE?! PLEASE! SOMEONE PLEASE ANSWER!" he yelled.

As he watched Carnegie's body consumed by the blazing green inferno, Konrad saw a massive face peer out from it. A woman shrieked.

Four feet long and two feet wide, the face was brown in color. Resembling either an elephant or mammoth skull, it had yellow beady blinking eyes and no mouth - at least, as far as Konrad could tell. Where the mouth and lips should be was a medusan-like beard, a series of two foot long octopus tentacles that waved about in the air. Parts of the head were marked by what looked like runes, although of what origin Konrad was uncertain, while draped around its face were some ropes.

Puzzled by this aspect, Konrad wondered why it had those when the flame died down, revealing the true nature of the thing; attached to some piece of driftwood, it was actually a sort of grotesque living shield that hung from the left arm of its owner, a being that was just as hideous, loathsome and abnormal, even more so, for its mere existence was madness.

Standing in Carnegie's place, held together by no apparent form of sinew or muscle, was a human skeleton with a red bandanna wrapped around its forehead.

A diminutive figure that stood at five-six, it was dressed in a Scottish tartan with a belt around its waist while a pair of buccaneer boots that looked like they were from the late 1700s adorned its feet. Wrapped around its torso were a series of ropes while what looked like old rotted parts of a ship's mast and steering wheel were stabbed into its right shoulder, with one part swinging around loosely behind each time it moved. Its right arm gauntleted, it held in its free bony hand a large cutlass. Staring out at the stunned audience with red, glowing, lidless balls of light from its sockets, shifting its mandible around, grating its teeth back and forth, the impossible entity regarded its surroundings, then, to Konrad's amazement and horror, tossed its head back and let out a loud, shrill, defiant maniacal laugh, despite not having any sort musculature, vocals or lungs. It was an awful, insanity-inducing sound that pierced the eardrums and buried itself into peoples' consciousness.

" _Yaahahahahahaha!"_

"What the hell is _that_?!" Roger exclaimed.

Konrad raised the radio again and pressed the call button.

 _'Please let it work,'_ he prayed, then cheered as he got a response.

"Richter, are you there?" he said into the radio.

"Jawohl," Richter answered.

Success! The chanting was still there, but at least there's a signal.

"Listen to me carefully," Konrad said. "I want you to use non-lethals only."

"What?!"

"Look around, Richter! There's seven thousand people here. We cannot risk that thing getting to them or Eagle, nor can we risk firing a shot without hitting and/or killing them. Before you do so,I want you to try communicating with it."

"Are you insane?! It's a goddamn zombie!" Hermann exclaimed on the radio.

"If you don't antagonize it in any way, it will not have any reason to lash out." Konrad reasoned. "Just try to get its attention. Smile and try to be friendly. Show that we mean it no harm. If it attacks, taser it."

Konrad heard the man mutter something unintelligible on the radio, then watched as the skeleton took a step toward Eagle, stopping as the security team called to it from behind. Turning around, it tilted its head curiously as one of the men spoke, raising his arms and hands up in a placating motion, smiling, his colleagues nervously following his example. The skeleton stared at them, then glanced back to Eagle, shifting its jaw back and forth, deep in apparent thought. As it lowered the sword, Konrad slowly nodded to himself in assurance.

"Maybe it could be reasoned with after all!" Konrad said to his bodyguards.

The skeleton then turned toward the security team, raised up its cutlass threateningly, then stomped toward them in halting steps.

 _"Wh-REALLY?!"_ Konrad yelled at the figure through the one way mirror in disbelief. "You _only_ have a one-tract mind?! The only reason why you stopped was because you didn't know _who to kill first_?!"

"It can't hear you, Baron," Michael reminded. "At least, I think it can't."

The stupid bastard kept stomping toward the security team, then started to run, laughing menacingly and maniacally, waving its cutlass in the air dangerously as it did so. Once it was well within range, the security personnel fired off their X-26 tasers, the electrodes planting themselves onto parts of its bony body. It shrieked as thousands of volts of electricity coursed into it, then collapsed to the floor in a clutter.

"They got it!" Roger yelled.

Konrad watched as the security personnel scrambled quickly to the fallen creature, one of them raising up his boot and slamming it down onto the thing's skull, crushing it underfoot several times. When he finished, he pulled away and pressed into his radio.

"Hostile down." Hermann said. "No more Mister Zombie."

Konrad sighed in relief. Changing channels, he raised up the radio.

"Felix, are you there?" he asked.

No answer.

"Felix, are you there?"

Still no response.

"Control room, do you read?"

Nothing.

Konrad watched as Hermann went over to the shield, which was still flailing its tentacles about, blinking its eyes.

"Felix? Do you read?"

From the other end, a guttural voice spoke, raising hairs on the back of his neck, **_"You fool, Felix is dead!"_ **

Konrad stared at the radio, taken aback.

"Who is this?!" he demanded. "WHO ARE YOU?!"

He watched as Hermann raised up his foot and slammed it down on the living shield's head. The moment his foot made impact, an impossibly huge bony arm made from some sort of green energy erupted from the ground, eliciting shrieks of startled surprise as it scattered debris and held the guard up fifteen feet in the air. The guard screamed and struggled in its grip while the others tried grabbing hold of his legs. The next thing Konrad knew, there came a bright green flash and the guard exploded, raining down blood and gore onto the others as they shielded their eyes from the unexpected downpour. Audiences screamed and, to Konrad's incredulity, cheered.

"Why the hell are they cheering?!" Konrad asked in confusion. "Can't they see people are getting _killed_?!"

"I think _they think_ this is part of the show," Michael said.

Konrad watched as the skeleton's frame reconfigured itself in the air, skull and all. From there, it became an all-out slaughter as security guards were eviscerated and decapitated left and right on live television, the ghostly chorus singing obscenely in delight and in accompaniment as if it was some sort of horrible performance. Even worse, the audience seemed to be loving every moment of it, especially when reinforcements arrived in the form of the Theseus combat androids.

 _ **"Skogen den pratar, boskap på flykt,**_  
 _ **Fienden bränner våra marker,**_  
 _ **Rasslar med svärd och slår på sköldar,**_  
 _ **Redo att dräpa oss nu.**_

 _ **Vi ber till dig Spinal, lämna din kropp,**_  
 _ **Bli våran hövding, ta till vapen,**_  
 _ **Skänk oss din styrka vid denna strid,**_  
 _ **Vakna vakna, mäktiga Gud."**_

One guard fired his taser only to have the projectiles blocked by the shield as the skeleton stood in a defensive position. As thousands of volts entered the shield, Konrad watched as three green floating spectral skulls appeared behind the demonic figure.

"What is-"

He stopped as the living shield parted its tentacles, blasting into the guard with these ghostly projectiles that exploded against him, chattering and laughing as they curled up in the air before dissipating into nothingness. The guard lay lifeless on the ground, his body a smoking pulped ruin.

 _ **"Mörkret det faller över vårt land,**_  
 _ **Vindarna viner, marken skakar,**_  
 _ **Fienden samlas runt vårt rike,**_  
 _ **Redo att kuva oss nu."**_

 _ **Krigare samlas vid helig grav,**_  
 _ **Kallar på Spinal, krigarguden,**_  
 _ **Hjälp vi behöver vid denna strid,**_  
 _ **Fräls oss, fräls oss mäktiga Gud."**_

Scattered around the entity, the panicking security guards and the Theseus units started firing live rounds at their target.

"CEASE FIRE!" Konrad roared into the radio. " DU VERDAMMTER MORONEN! CAN'T YOU HEAR ME?! I SAID CEASE FIRE!"

Bullets pierced the creature's body, but no matter the direction, part or angle, it just ignored them, continuing relentlessly on in its quest for blood. Its sword glowing with green flame, with a single violent swing, the skeleton cut down several of the Theseus units all at once, leaving them as twisted smoking scrap and wire that clattered to the floor. As one Theseus unit fired point blank into the creature's ribcage, cutting down one unfortunate guard behind it, another stabbed the skeleton in the back with a retractable wrist blade. Elbowing the machine away, the skeleton brought its cutlass down onto the other's head, slicing clean through, causing sparks to fly. Planting its boot on the Theseus unit's chest, the entity pushed it back, wedging its weapon out. The steering wheel on its back creaked and swung as the entity rolled its right shoulder in readiness. As the remaining Theseus units fired upon its position, the skeleton suddenly sunk into a patch of glowing green light in the ground, reappearing instantaneously next to a guard as it killed him.

"How the hell is it doing that?!" Roger asked as it kept reappearing all over the arena.

"The ugly little bastard is full of unwanted surprises," Konrad growled as the entity summoned up a pair of spectral skeletal arms from the ground that somehow phased through each other while at the same time crushing a Theseus unit that was caught in between.

Konrad got out his cellphone and tried calling the police, but the only thing he heard was more of that damn chanting.

 _ **"Riket det skriker efter vår hjälp,**_  
 _ **Spinal han vaknar, lämnar graven**_  
 _ **Med kraftigt tjut han samlar trupper**_  
 _ **Redo att slåss för oss nu."**_

Konrad looked to his bodyguards.

"Can either of you call the police?" he asked.

Both men turned on their cellphones.

 _ **"Vi äter upp svampar för kraft och rus,**_  
 _ **Plockar fram yxor, brynjor, hjälmar,**_  
 _ **Med Guden Spinals krafter och mod,**_  
 _ **Seger, seger, segern är vår."**_

"GOD! FUCKING! DAMN IT!" Konrad roared as he violently flung his wine glass from the table next to him against the wall.

He helplessly looked back to the arena. The Theseus units had all fallen, scattered around like garbage. The guards were running for their lives, but the bloodthirsty little bastard continued hunting after them, gutting them like animals on the arena floor without mercy. It wouldn't be long before it turned its attention elsewhere.

"Roger, take my radio," Konrad ordered as he held it out to him. "Find Dieter and Lawrence and get down there. Get everyone out of here. Save as many -"

He stopped as he heard the door opened. Turning around in his chair, he saw the aforementioned men, putting the radio back down onto his lap. They were both pale and stained with blood.

"Dieter! Lawrence! Where have you been?!"

Dieter wiped sweat from his forehead.

"We were busy tending to the wounded down there. It's bad, Baron. We've tried to do the best we could, but we've run out of supplies and the bodies are piling up faster and faster." he said as he took out a cigarette. His hand was trembling furiously as he lit it. "Where's the police?!"

"We're cut off," Konrad answered. "Have you sent someone out to get help?"

"Several ran out the building, but we haven't heard from them, nor has anyone seen them since."

"What about Eagle?"

"SIR, LOOK!" Michael called.

Konrad turned around looked to where he pointed.

"Oh mein gott." Konrad uttered.

To his amazement, Eagle was still down there.

His hands, clothes and face bloody, it looked like he was trying very damn hard to save as many guards as possible, dragging and carrying the injured away to one or both of the fighter alleys, helping those that had fallen up to their feet to flee the scene, even yelling at the audience to get help, call the police or to get out while they still could. At one point it looked like the Native American, a usually affable fellow, was cussing at the audience.

And who could blame him?

The stupid bastards just sat there, cheering and enjoying the show. The only reaction Eagle got was him getting into an argument with some moron about something. Meanwhile, the skeleton was off to the side. Its sword propped up against a wall, it stood there playing with some guard's decapitated head, shaking it about with one hand, causing the mouth to flap about obscenely.

"LA LA LA LA LA LA!" it sang off-key happily, trying to get the decapitated head's mouth to match its awful singing.

After several very hard and violent shakes, the jaw flew right off, causing people to scream.

One person fainted.

Shrugging, it grunted, then absentmindedly tossed the decapitated head over its shoulder, the body part landing onto the bloodied arena floor with a splat. Giving a heavy, sad and discontented sigh, the skeleton picked up its cutlass and reached up its tartan to scratch its bony crotch with its blade, much to the Baron's disbelief, looking around in boredom before doing a double-take. It now had its beady red orbs fixed on Eagle.

Stomping towards him while he was still arguing with some mental midget, it rolled the cutlass eagerly in its hand. It charged toward him with an insane laugh. Eagle was now running furiously around the arena, dodging each of the thing's attacks.

"RUN! RUN! SCHNELL! SCHNELL!" Konrad shouted furiously.

Just right when Eagle headed to one of the fighter alleys, several massive green arms sprouted from the ground, blocking his way out, causing him to skid to a halt. Turning around, he bolted to the other exit, only to find it blocked off by another giant set of arms. He was caged in with no way out.

From the speakers, the chanting repeated only one word, which the audience themselves seemed to delight in saying with it.

 _ **"SPINAL!**_

 _ **SPINAL!**_

 _ **SPINAL!"**_

"Nein, nein, NEIN!" Konrad repeated worriedly as he ran his gloved hands against his hooded head. "We have to get him out of there!"

"How?!" Dieter asked.

The aristocrat cupped his hands on his face. If only there was some way to help him. If only there was some way he could get out-

Pausing, he tilted his head thoughtfully, then stood up from his seat, taking hold of the blanket from his lap.

"What are you doing?" Dieter said in confusion.

Wordlessly, Konrad folded up the blanket, then took off his gloves, unsheathing his furry clawed hands. Putting them both onto the seat of the wheelchair, he then slid the cloak, scarf and hood off from his shoulders and head, along with his sunglasses.

"Are you insane?!"

"No, Dieter," Konrad replied as he neatly folded them and laid them out on his wheelchair, "I'm thinking clearly, very clearly."

"Baron, you can't just go out like that!" Dieter protested.

"And why not? If those people in that arena are stupid enough to believe that what they're seeing isn't real, then chances are they're not going blink at the sight of me."

" _People are going to notice a blue four hundred pound werewolf!"_ Dieter hissed. "Especially one that's exiting from the Baron's private booth! You can't just walk out into the hallway!"

"Dieter," Konrad tsked, "how stupid do you think I am? I'm not going into the hallway, that's crazy! I'll crash through the window."

"WHAT?!"

"For dramatic effect."

The bodyguard looked like he was ready to tear his own hair out. "Baron, this is fucking stupid and bloody crazy! People are going to know it's you!"

"Not if Michael poses as me." Konrad said as he pointed to the wheelchair. "What matters now is saving that boy before that thing guts him and the rest of the audience."

"And what if you get killed?! What if you die from the fall or get cut up to pieces by Skeletor down there?!" Dieter retorted.

The aristocrat paused for a moment and thought about it. It's true, there was no guarantee that he'd survive.

His shoulders sagged as he sighed.

"Well, then the joke will be on me once again."

* * *

Eagle stared down at his opponent, his form drawn into a defensive pose, his arms raised in readiness, his fists tightly wound like knots. Beads on sweat rolled down his brow as he met his strange opponent's unwavering gaze. All around, people were chanting one word, over and over again in conjunction with the chants.

"SPINAL! SPINAL! SPINAL!"

Turning away from Eagle's eyes, the skeleton glanced at the audiences, tilting its head curiously, moving its jaw. Rolling its shoulder, it took a menacing step in the audience's direction.

"STAY WHERE YOU ARE!" Eagle shouted, catching the creature's attention. "Your fight is with me! Just as the Coyote had struck you down ages ago, so too will I, Monster!"

The skeleton turned back toward him.

His heart beating loudly in his ears, Eagle carefully kept his eye on it, his opponent doing the same. Before either party were able to make a move, the one-way mirror overlooking the arena shattered, raining down glass as something big landed into the arena with them, causing the audiences to cry out in alarm and both fighters to pause. Raising itself up, the creature stood up, staring at the skeleton, growling menacingly. Once it reached its full height, it made several threatening slash gestures, reared itself back and gave a mighty roar, which elicited loud cheers from the audience.

"OHHH SHIT!"

"A WEREWOLF! IT'S A FUCKING WEREWOLF!"

"IT'S ON, NOW!"

Eagle stared at this newest creature.

"A _hímiinhaama_? Here?!" He said aloud, baffled by its presence.

The creature paused as he said that, looking straight at him, regarding him thoughtfully. Meanwhile, the audiences were going nuts.

"THAT LOOKS SO COOL!"

"THIS IS AWESOME!"

"IT LOOKS SO REALISTIC!"

"THIS IS GOING TO BE GOOD!"

Others weren't so enthused.

"It looks so fake!"

"What were Ultratech thinking?"

"It looks like a rat!"

"Why is it blue?"

"Boo! Werewolves aren't blue! Fuck this, I'm outta here!"

"I just lost all respect for Ultratech."

"Oh come on! They're not even trying anymore! I can see the zipper on the back of that thing!"

"WHY ARE YOU JUST STANDING THERE?! DO SOMETHING COOL, DAMN IT! I PAID GOOD MONEY, YOU MORON!"

Hearing those negative comments, the beast looked in the direction where they had been said, bared its teeth and let out a fearsome roar, eliciting several whoops before turning back to the skeleton.

"GET OUT OF THERE!" A voice called from above.

Looking up to the broken one-way mirror, Eagle saw several men call to him. One of them was in a wheel chair with a cloak and hood.

"GET OUT OF THERE, NOW! RUN!"

At that moment, the hímiinhaama charged toward the skeleton, giving Eagle the chance to flee to the fighter alley.

Putting his hands around the massive green arms, he gave a yell, sharply whisking his hands away from the shock he received. Blowing on his hands, he looked to the dueling creatures.

It seems like there's only one way to get out, and he knew what he must do.

* * *

Charging towards the skeleton, Konrad lashed out with a swipe from his clawed hand, only to have to the attack deflected by that shield.

Dodging away in a cartwheel from an oncoming swipe, he slid down to the floor and spun on his back like a top, twisting himself around expertly until his feet connected with the skeleton's booted feet, causing it to trip.

Launching himself back up to his feet, he lunged at the downed opponent, only to miss as it sank down into the ground in a green flash of light.

He yelped as he felt a hot searing pain across his shoulder blades, causing him to stagger forward. Turning around, he dodged the overhead to the side, twisting, turning, blocking and parrying each of its attacks. Planting a lucky right hook across its jaw, Konrad gave a feral grin and felt a certain degree of satisfaction as he watched the ugly little shit fall down onto its bony ass. Lifting up its head, his opponent narrowed its beady orbs at him, then gave a frustrated, angry roar as it rose and charged him. Leaping high into the air toward him with its cutlass raised over its head, it plunged down. Konrad waited, timing the fall until he back flipped, his feet catching the skeleton in the air, causing it to come crashing down.

"OH THAT'S BULLSHIT!" he heard someone from the audience yelled out angrily. "WEREWOLVES DON'T DO BACKFLIPS!"

 _'Well this one does! Fuck off, geek!_ ' Konrad thought.

Feeling a hot pain across his back again, Konrad stumbled, whimpering before quickly twisting around into a spin, his clawed hands swiping the skeleton across its face and following up with a backhand, then finishing off with another backflip kick.

Once it fell the ground, Konrad wasted no time in pinning it to the ground, slamming his fists down upon it over and over again until it sank into the green light, taking Konrad with it. The sensation the aristocrat felt as he traveled into it was unlike anything he had ever experienced; even though it was a scant few seconds, if not less, it felt far longer, a violent process that seemed to span across all of eternity, involving simultaneous tearing and reconstitution of his self. Once he crashed back onto the arena floor, Konrad pushed himself onto his hands and knees, feeling himself.

What the hell was that?

Hearing the demonic laughter ahead of him, he glanced up to see the creature charging toward him with sword up in the air. Twisting his body to perform a sweep, Konrad's timing missed its mark as the little bastard sank down in front of him, reappearing behind him before ducking down again to avoid Konrad's side thrust kick. With the creature's constant teleporting, it became practically impossible to catch the little bastard, leaving him at its mercy as it continued with its hit-and-run tactics, slashing him over and over again until his body was covered in cuts that bled freely. Several cuts were made into his back, his arms, his chest. One caught him on the forehead while another cut into his leg caused Konrad to whine in pain as he collapsed onto the ground.

His body wracked in pain, Konrad breathed heavily as he crawled weakly on his stomach, shutting one eye as blood dripped into it. All around him, the audiences continued to chant that single word, or rather name, over and over again in delirious euphoria.

"SPINAL! SPINAL! SPINAL!"

Walking slowly toward him with cracking joints, each step punctuated by loud crunching, "Spinal" spun its cutlass in hand eagerly, eying him. Stopping just a few inches in front of him, it stood directly over him and stared down at Konrad, its skull giving that awful perpetual smile.

 _'So this is how it ends,'_ Konrad thought with resignation.

As Spinal raised up his sword to deliver the finishing blow, Konrad caught sight of a pair of boots bury themselves into the skeleton's head, driving it off its feet and pushing it further away from him.

Konrad squinted under the arena lights as he tried to glance up at the silhouette that saved him.

" _Hímiinhaama!"_ A familiar voice said into his ear. " _Himiinhaama_ , are you alright?!"

Konrad nodded weakly as he felt a pair of strong hands lift him up and carried him off.

"Come on, _Himiinhaama_ , we're getting out of h-"

He was cut off as he gave a cry of pain, causing him to drop Konrad. As he did so, Konrad heard that damn cackle again.

"No," he said weakly.

Konrad watched with one open eye as Spinal slashed at Eagle from all directions, torturing him, tormenting him as he circled, ran toward and teleported all around him, the arena filled with maniacal laughter. After dealing a certain amount of damage to the Native American, the skeleton leapt up, folded its arms together over its chest and sunk into the ground, teleporting right into Eagle, lifting him into the air and causing him to crash down hard.

Pushing himself up, Konrad struggled to get himself onto one shaky arm as the little shit teleported several times, playing with the injured Eagle as he stumbled back and forth on his feet before knocking him onto his back.

Once Eagle fell, Spinal slashed the downed figure across his chest, then raised up its disgusting shield into the air. Konrad's brows furrowed as it started to glow.

 _'What is it doing?'_ he wondered.

At that moment, the music stopped altogether, much to everyone's confusion. Then, lights in the stadium shut down, causing a few people to scream, leaving the shield as the sole source of light as the arena began to fill up with a thick mist. To Konrad's horror, the dead security guards that lay all around him rose to their feet, picking up their dismembered selves, several of them walking out from the fighter alleys with struggling personnel and the other surviving security guards in hand.

* * *

Dieter squinted as he tried peering through the thick smoky haze.

"Can any of you see anything in there?" he said to the other bodyguards.

"Nope," Michael answered.

"Me neither," said Lawrence.

The building shook violently.

"What the hell?" Dieter said. "An earthquake?"

* * *

Konrad remained still and tense as he peered through the mist. There were certain benefits a lycanthrope enjoyed, one of them being enhanced senses, but at that moment, however, Konrad would have given anything not to have them.

Once the shaking stopped, he saw something.

* * *

"What is that noise?!" Roger demanded as there came a sound of crackling gravel and a pair of soft booms.

"What the hell is going on in there?!" Michael asked nervously.

There came a swishing noise, followed by a loud groan, so loud that Dieter felt it rumble through his own body. There was also a very loud heaving noise that sucked air in and rumbled out.

"What the fuck is that?!" Dieter exclaimed. "Do you guys hear that?!"

"Probably a generator," Lawrence reasoned quietly. "A faulty fan, maybe?"

There came a loud thud that caused the booth to shake, as if something large had landed onto the ground. Then, there was a strange fleshy noise, followed by an awful chorus of screams. People were crying for help, begging to be let go, crying for their parents, to whatever deity listened. Lots of people cried out to Christ.

The screaming became so unbearable that the men had to clasp their hands to their ears, staying like that until it stopped. It was only for a few minutes, but it felt like an eternity.

Once it was over, the lights flickered back on, revealing the bloody arena below.

Dieter and the others gaped at what they saw.

"My god..." the bodyguard uttered softly.

* * *

Curled up in a fetal position for several minutes, Konrad opened his eyes nervously, his form trembling furiously. The entire stadium was empty. The only ones left were Spinal and Eagle, who lay unmoving on the ground. The former raising his shield high into the air, Konrad watched as the thing on its arm narrowed its beady eyes and elicited a fearsome roar, glowing green and somehow sucking in the air all around it. Once it was finished, the skeleton lowered the shield, tossed its skull back in a maniacal laugh in victory, then glanced back down at Eagle, tilting its head and shifting its jaw in curiosity before lunging at his fallen form, prepared to gleefully mutilate his unconscious body when a shot rang out, jerking its head back. Konrad glanced around, then stopped as Dieter and the rest of the bodyguards, including Michael, who was still dressed in Konrad's cloak, came charging in from one of the fighter alleys. Roger and Lawrence repeatedly smashed their feet down on the creature's skull while it was down while Michael and Dieter came to the Baron's side.

"Baron! Are you okay?" the bodyguard asked in concern.

Konrad opened his mouth to say something, but as he did so, tiredness swept over him like a woolen blanket, causing him to lose consciousness as Dieter shouted at him repeatedly.


	6. Chapter Five: Awakening

**Chapter Five: Awakening**

 ** _"Wise men have interpreted dreams, and the gods have laughed."_ -** H.P. Lovecraft

Light seeped into Konrad's eyes as he awoke. Massaging them slowly with his thumbs, he raised himself up slightly and looked around to gather his bearings. Finding himself alone and in his bed, his body covered in bandages, he settled back down as the door to his bedroom opened, revealing Jurgen as he came in with a plate on a breakfast tray covered by a steel cloche.

"Ah, Herr Baron!" the servant said cheerfully. "I'm glad to see that you're awake!"

Konrad massaged his eyes groggily, sitting himself up.

"How long was I out for?" he asked.

"Several hours," Jurgen answered he set down the tray in front of him. "You've lost a lot of blood, so you need to rest."

Konrad regarded the servant as he poured a hot cup of coffee.

"What do you know of last night?"

"I know that you've had one hell of a shock yesterday evening."

Konrad scoffed as he lied there.

"Understatement of the year, Jurgen," he replied, then sat up with a start. "Oh mein Gott, Eagle! Where's Eagle?! Has he been taken to the hospital?"

The servant frowned.

"He's being cared for in the guest room," Jurgen answered.

"Why was he brought here?!" Konrad demanded.

"We had to get you home, sir." Jurgen explained. "Gupte and the other doctors have treated him the best they could, but the injuries he's sustained have taken a toll on him. He's lost complete consciousness, and it's doubtful he'll ever recover."

"We need to get him to the hospital," Konrad said. "Call for an ambulance-"

"Herr Baron," the servant interrupted, "even if Eagle was brought to the hospital, there's nothing they could do. Our doctors have done everything that they themselves would have had done and then some. I'm sorry."

Konrad was quiet for a moment. Taking in a slow, deep breath through his nostrils, he slammed his fist down angrily on his breakfast tray, causing coffee to leap out from the cup.

 _"FUCK!"_ he shouted as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

"It's not your fault, Herr Baron!" Jurgen assured.

"Even so, Jurgen," Konrad said quietly, "I'm ruined!"

"Calm down, Herr Baron, you're overreacting."

 _"Overreacting?!"_ Konrad snarled as he glanced up at the servant. "Jurgen, because of that-that _creature_ , I'm going to be facing the _mother_ of all lawsuits! Eagle's family, Carnegie's family, the families of their managers...all those countless other families...they're all going to want retribution."

"What are you talking about?!" Jurgen said in confusion.

"You've seen the program, haven't you?!"

"The _entire world_ has, Herr Baron," said the servant. "It's made the headlines in the Entertainment Section of newspapers and has been a subject of nonstop discussion on numerous news channels and on the Internet. The phone's been ringing nonstop for interviews."

Konrad looked at him fearfully.

"By who?"

"Journalists, mainly."

"Were any from the police?"

"No, Herr Baron."

"Lawyers?"

"No, sir."

"Are you sure, Jurgen?" Konrad asked with uncertainty. "People died yesterday! Thousands!"

"I am afraid you are mistaken, Herr Baron." Jurgen replied.

"What?" Konrad said, puzzled. "I thought you said that everyone's seen what happened."

"We did."

"Then what about the seven thousand or so people that had disappeared?!"

" _That_ never happened, Herr Baron."

 _"I know what I saw!"_ Konrad angrily roared. "I was there!"

"Herr Baron, people fled from the arena once that earthquake struck."

"Earthquake?" Konrad repeated dumbly.

"Ja. They returned to their homes in a state of shock."

Konrad stared at him, taken aback.

"What?"

"Ja. It was a miracle that you, Dieter and the others were able to get out of there before the arena collapsed."

"It _collapsed_?!" he repeated incredulously.

"Ja. Dieter and the others reported that the building shook at one point, that it caused equipment to go haywire."

The aristocrat shook his head.

"It wasn't any earthquake, Jurgen."

"So you had been saying. Dieter told me that you were rambling about a giant creature while you were unconscious."

Konrad stared ahead in silence.

"What did you see?" Jurgen asked quietly.

The aristocrat sighed.

"I was on the floor bleeding," he replied. "I was feeling lightheaded and helpless while Spinal - that's the skeleton, what the chants called it - hacked away at that boy."

"I saw that," Jurgen nodded.

"Did you see what happened _after_ the creature's shield started to glow?" Konrad pressed.

The servant shook his head.

"The cameras had abruptly shut down after that."

"I bet they did," Konrad said grimly as he laid his head back against the headboard.

* * *

 _Konrad lay bleeding on the ground as the mists formed a thick dense wall around him, watching as Spinal's shield ominously shined through the haze-filled darkness. The ground shook violently as spider cracks started to form in front of him. After a few minutes, if not seconds, Konrad saw something. Debris was tossed aside as a huge watermark stained the mist in front of him, causing Konrad to crane his neck further and further up, staring open-mouthed until the thing's head nearly scraped the ceiling. From what he saw through the mist, a gigantic humanoid torso marked with glowing runes or glyphs protruded out from the ground, the top of its head reminding Konrad of crowns worn by pharaohs in Lower Egypt in ancient times. Its face consisted of a single long white door, and as it glanced around, breathed and groaned an odorous vapor that reeked of decay and dirt, the door split into four worm-like mandibles with panels at each end._

 _Konrad knew that what he saw wasn't any hallucination or spirit - it was a real living creature, for every time it moved he heard, felt and saw the air being displaced, causing some of the mist to swirl in its wake. Even more, it had a distinctive malodorous scent that polluted the air, reminding Konrad of beef that had been left out for weeks unrefrigerated during a hot summer. Every time it breathed, Konrad felt the hairs on his body being blown back or pulled forward in conjunction with every inhalation or exhalation of hot air._

 _Lowering itself down so that its massive head was flat to the floor, its arms bent in support of its massive body, Konrad watched as it opened its mouth and as the dead security guards led their struggling captives to their doom. Once the security guards entered the creature's gullet, other indescribable creatures appeared and started dragging away the audiences, forcing Konrad to crawl up into a fetal position, covering his eyes and ears, trying to block out the awful screams._

* * *

Jurgen listened in silence, his expression stony.

"I swear, Jurgen," Konrad said as he shook his head from side to side, "I've never felt so frightened in my entire life!"

"I imagine so," the servant replied. "It explains why you had urinated yourself."

The aristocrat looked at him curiously.

 _"Urinated myself?"_

"Ja," Jurgen said. "We had to clean you and get those pants off because of the smell."

Konrad looked down in shame and embarrassment, his face sagging, the corners of his mouth and eyes drooping.

"Herr Baron," Jurgen said as he placed a comforting on his shoulder. "Please don't feel bad."

"I bet Dieter and the others had a right laugh at my expense," he said in a voice barely above a whisper.

"I assure you, Herr Baron, no one was laughing at you."

"Then they're having one right now."

"They're not," Jurgen assured. "But Herr Baron, there's something about your account that I don't understand."

The aristocrat brushed his hand against his nose.

"And what's that?"

"If what you say is true, why didn't the creature take you and Eagle?"

Konrad was silent for a moment, deep in thought. After a few minutes, he shrugged.

"I don't know," he answered.

"In all likelihood, Herr Baron, what you saw was probably a hallucination or a dream."

He glared at the servant.

"It wasn't a dream and it definitely wasn't a damn hallucination!" he snapped.

"Herr Baron," Jurgen said sternly, "when Dieter picked you up, the arena was intact. Outside of the few holes caused by that skeleton and it being filthy, it remained largely intact. If what you said was true, then there should have been much more destruction and suggestions of its presence! There is no way a creature of the scale that you're describing would just enter and slip away without leaving _something_ behind!"

Konrad growled.

"Let's suppose for a moment that _that_ was a dream," he said slowly, "people _all_ saw Spinal, didn't they?"

"They had."

"Then it still doesn't change the fact that people had died on live television!"

Jurgen shifted uncomfortably.

"Actually..."

"What?" Konrad demanded. "Do NOT tell me that that was a dream or hallucination! Dieter and I SAW those people die!"

"No, I believe you, Herr Baron, but..." the servant faltered before continuing, "those people that had been killed turned up _alive_ elsewhere."

Konrad furrowed his brows.

"What do you mean "alive"?"

" _Several_ of them actually called in, including the film crew and the security guards. I had gotten off the phone with Mister Carnegie's manager not long ago," Jurgen said slowly. "He sounded...distant. He said that he and Carnegie really enjoyed performing for the program and that they would like to do it again some time."

A chill ran through Konrad's spine, causing him to shiver.

"Where's Dieter?" he asked, trying to change the subject.

"He's tending to your guests." Jurgen answered.

"Guests?" Konrad said in confusion. "What guests?"

"The skeleton, Spinal, along with its shield."

Konrad gave a look of surprise.

"They brought them here?!"

"They had," the servant answered. "Apparently they thought they would be of great interest to you. They're currently up in the attic tying the damn things down on some tables."

Konrad straightened himself up, putting the tray onto the bed beside him.

"I want to see them." he said as he struggled out from the covers.

"Herr Baron!" Jurgen scolded. "You can't go in your condition! For god's sake you're still recovering from your injuries! You haven't even touched your breakfast!"

"I'll manage," Konrad said, wincing. "Can you at least get me some pants?"

* * *

The skeleton roared angrily.

"TIE THIS BASTARD DOWN!" Dieter yelled.

Konrad crept up the ladder, listening to the angry shouting and grunts of exertion before entering through the opening. The attic was a dimly lit white area with a single light bulb hanging overhead and brown wooden footboards. Ten feet high and forty feet wide, the room was filled with old trunks, toys, picture frames, tables, chairs and other furniture that were all covered with canvases. At the far end of the attic, Dieter and the others were struggling with their task, tying down the two anomalies tightly on the tables.

"Scheibe, this thing is strong!" Lawrence said through gritted teeth, straining as he tried wrenching the cutlass from Spinal's bony hand. "It's no good, Dieter! I can't get him to let go of the sword!"

"Forget about that, just make sure he doesn't get out!"

The skeleton rocked angrily on the table, causing it to shake, crying out in frustration as it shook its head from side to side, trying to wrench itself free.

Once Konrad finished climbing up, he took a step toward the skeleton, his footsteps creaking, drawing the attention of his bodyguards.

"Baron!" Dieter said in surprise. "What are you doing up here?! It's not safe, sir!"

"I wanted to see it," Konrad replied.

"I don't think it's a good idea," Dieter said. "You should be in bed recovering. For god's sake, man, you're not even wearing your cloak!"

"Yes, thank you, Dieter," Konrad said irritably, "your commentary on my fashion aside, I came here to see if I can speak to it."

Dieter hesitated.

"Speak to it?" he repeated. "Baron-"

"Just indulge me, Dieter," Konrad said tiredly.

The bodyguard scowled.

"Alright," he replied. "Just wait until the boys and I finish up here before you start questioning it."

Turning his attention back to the ropes, Dieter and the others grunted as they strained the ropes, then tied them securely.

"Okay, you can go ahead."

"Are you sure he's tied down?" Konrad asked hesitantly.

"We're pretty sure he won't be able to get out of this."

Konrad sighed.

"Okay."

"Herr Baron, are you sure about this?" Michael asked with uncertainty. "We've all seen what happened the last time people tried communicating with it."

"The last time people spoke to it was in English and German," Konrad replied. "I'll try communicating with it in Latin."

"Latin?" Dieter said with confusion. "The fuck for?"

"Don't you know your ghost stories, Dieter? Have you not ever read "Hamlet"?"

"I flunked that course in high school," the bodyguard admitted.

Konrad shook his head.

"Latin is supposedly the language of the dead," he explained. "So, it stands to reason that our Ghost Skeleton here will be able to better understand me."

Looking to Spinal, he took two slow steps toward it. The skeleton slowed its movements, watching him. Grabbing a chair for himself, Konrad sat by the foot of the table.

"Potestis intelligere me?" he asked.

"Quod sic." it answered, its voice a strained and shrill yet guttural-sounding croak.

Konrad nodded his head.

"He understands!" he said excitedly before turning back to the creature. "Quid tu hic?"

"Quod sic," it answered.

Blinking several times in puzzlement, Konrad's brows furrowed.

"Quid tu hic?" he repeated.

"Quod sic."

"What is it saying?" Lawrence asked.

"I asked him why he's here, but all he is saying is "yes"," Konrad said in irritation. "Posse dicitis ad me quid tu quaeris?"

"Quod sic."

"Unde venis et quo vadis?"

"Quod sic."

"Cur tu venisti?"

"Quod sic."

"Tu es vultus pro aliquis?"

"Quod sic."

"Quis tu quaeris?"

"Quod sic."

The aristocrat stared long and hard at the creature before continuing.

"Stultus es?"

"Quod sic."

Konrad angrily stood up from his chair.

"Bloody idiot," he fumed.

"What have you been saying?" Michael asked.

"I asked where he came from, why he's here, who was he looking for, who does he want, what does he want, but all he keeps saying is yes!" Konrad ranted angrily. "I even asked him if he was stupid and he gleefully said "yes!". Stupid bastard."

"Let's get out of here, Baron," Dieter said. "I don't want to spend a minute longer with these fucking things. We can talk about it downstairs."

The men turned around and headed back down the ladder. As Konrad glanced back to Spinal, he watched as the skeleton resumed its futile efforts.

* * *

Konrad was back in the bedroom, eating his breakfast and checking his cellphone.

"The first thing we need to do is to figure out where this thing came from," he said.

"And how do we do that exactly?" Dieter asked.

"By checking the news for anything that indicates a trail. Chances are, people might have seen something, if not had an encounter with it."

"Sir," Michael said as he looked up from his cellphone, "Google News reports a series of animal decapitations along the North Sea. It also mentions a few human casualties."

Konrad paused.

"How many?"

"Five or six people were killed when their boat exploded. Authorities say it's an accident."

Konrad frowned. Damn.

"See if there's a video on YouTube with good audio quality," he said between mouthfuls before downing a cup of coffee. "I want to know what language those chants are in and I want them translated by an expert."

"Sir," Lawrence said fearfully, "is it really a good idea to read the chants? Who knows what we might summon up next!"

"Lawrence," Konrad said patiently, "millions of people are playing videos of it across the globe, and from what I'm seeing on the news there's no suggestion of anything else being summoned, so chances are good that nothing else is going to pop up."

"Ja, but _we're_ the ones in close proximity to the damn things!"

Konrad frowned. He had a point.

"Just bear with me for a moment before you lose your nerve, man," the aristocrat said wearily.

"I got something!" Dieter said.

"Oh good! Play it."

"No, don't!" Lawrence said with alarm.

"There's no need to, sir. Someone's posted the lyrics up. Apparently it's Swedish," Dieter replied.

Konrad tilted his head. Swedish?

"Is there an English translation?"

"Yeah," Dieter said, "it's right here:

"'King and regent,  
Warrior,  
Emperor,  
Conqueror.

Body of bones,  
No heart,  
Baptized in blood,  
Soulless, lifeless.'"

"Jesus," Lawrence muttered.

Dieter continued, "'Evil Demon,  
Hero of the People-'"

"Oh! So we have a Marxist!" Konrad said sarcastically.

"Baron!" Dieter snapped before continuing again, "'Lifeless God,  
Rests here.

Flay! Flay! Flay!

The forest speaks, cattle are on the run,  
The enemy is burning our fields,  
Rustles with swords and striking shields,  
Ready to slay us now.

We beg to you Spinal, leave your body,  
Become our chieftain, take up arms,  
Gift us your strength in this battle,  
Awaken, awaken! Mighty God.

The darkness falls over our land,  
The wind sings, the earth trembles,  
The enemy is at our gates,  
Ready to subjugate us now.

Warriors gather at the holy grave,  
Calling for Spinal, the Warrior God,  
Give us the help we need in this battle,  
Save us, save us! Mighty God.

"'The kingdom cries for our help,  
Spinal awakes, leaves his grave,  
With a rallying cry he gathers his troops,  
Ready to fight for us now.

We eat mushrooms for power and intoxication,  
Pull out axes, mails, helmets,  
With the power and courage from Spinal, the God  
Victory, victory, victory is ours.'"

The group waited and glanced around, listening. After a few minutes, Dieter playfully punched Lawrence's shoulder.

"See? And you've gotten all worked up over nothing!" he said.

Konrad frowned.

"Are you sure that's what it says?" he asked.

"It's been corroborated by several people, so I'll assume that this is the correct translation," Dieter replied.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Dieter," Konrad said, "but I'm pretty sure that "Spinal" has never been the name of any god within Norse mythology."

Michael typed away on his cellphone.

"I got one million and sixty thousand hits for "Spinal Norse Mythology". One hit is in relation to Thor."

Konrad blinked.

"Really?"

"Don't get too excited, Herr Baron," Michael said. "Outside of a scientist naming a shrew's spine and saying that it has "godly strength", I can't see anything so far. I'll keep looking."

The aristocrat frowned, then typed on his cellphone.

"I typed in "animated skeletons in mythology", and have gotten eight million, two hundred and sixty thousand hits," he said while checking the screen. "Let's see...There's the "bake-kujira", but that's a whale...Ah! There's something called a "gashadokuro". From what it says here, it's a creature fifteen times taller than a man and is said to be created from the amassed bones of people that had either died of starvation or in battle without being buried."

"That sounds like our friend upstairs," Roger said.

"Oh yes, he's a hungry and vicious little bastard, for sure," Konrad said, "but one problem; a gashadokuro is Japanese. Our skeleton is Swedish and isn't part of a conglomerate, plus he is _much_ too small."

"To be fair, sir," Roger replied, "it would explain those giant arms at the tournament. Plus, we haven't questioned him in either language. At least, not yet."

The Baron grunted.

"Fair enough," he said before looking to the screen. "According to Wikipedia, animated skeletons were depicted as personifications of death in the Middle Ages in Western culture. Their appearance was in conjunction with the Black Death. Nothing else in terms of mythology."

"I think I found something!" Michael said. "Apparently the Hopi people of Arizona have something known as the "Skeleton Man"."

"That sounds promising!" Konrad said as he typed the word in and pressed the search tab.

"'Masauwu'," he read. His lips tightened into a grim line. "I don't think so. It describes him as being benign and a humorous figure."

"It says that there's two versions of this figure." Michael pointed out.

"True, but the one we have is _anything_ but benign," Konrad countered.

"I typed in "skeleton god mythology" into Google, " Dieter said. "Six million, seven hundred and ten thousand hits. I found a couple relating to Aztec mythology, one called "Mic.."

He squinted, trying to pronounce the name.

"Mictlan..," he read slowly, then shook his head. "I have no idea how the fuck to pronounce that."

Konrad typed into his cellphone Dieter's search.

"'Mictantecutli,'" he read aloud.

"That's it!"

"'Aztec god of the dead,'" Konrad continued, "'King of Mictlan, the lowest and northernmost section of the underworld. Worship sometimes involved ritual cannibalism. Depicted as a blood-spattered skeleton or a person wearing a toothy skull. Although head is typically a skull, his eye sockets didn't have eyeballs. Wears a headdress decorated with owl feathers and paper banners as well as wore a necklace of eyeballs and earspools made from human bones.'"

Lawrence shook his head in disgust.

"I think that could be our boy," Dieter said with a nod.

Konrad shook his head doubtfully.

"I wouldn't count on it, Dieter," he replied. "For one, it says here that _several_ Aztec gods had skulls for heads, including the skeletal warrior goddess Itzapalotl."

"Wait, wait, wait, what?!" Dieter interrupted. "There's a _female_ skeleton goddess?!"

"It's right here in the search listing, Dieter," Konrad pointed.

The bodyguard glanced at his cellphone.

"Huh."

"Going back to what I was saying, our skeleton doesn't possess any Aztec features or clothing."

He returned back to the search.

"Baron Samedi is out. The Celtic Ankou is definitely a possibility, but our skeleton didn't have a cart drawn by skeletal horses..."

Dieter sighed.

"Looks like it's going to be a long search."

* * *

Stories of the undead have existed for centuries and are extensive across a multitude of cultures.

The earliest records alone date all the way back to ancient Egypt in its depictions of an afterlife, although archaeological evidence suggested that such a phenomenon could have started as far back as the Neolithic era due to the discovery of funerary items at burial sites such as stone tools, animal offerings and pottery.

In ancient Babylon, references were made of the ghoul, the shape-shifting demons of the desert that often appeared as deceased loved ones and ate human flesh.

In Romania, stories were told of the moroi and the strigoi, the latter being the textbook definition of vampirism.

In China, there were the Jiangshi, the hopping vampire said to feed on people's life force.

In Tibet and Thailand, there's the preta, the hungry spirit that has a pinhole for a mouth who's punished for his or her crimes in thievery in the afterlife.

In Canada and parts of America, certain Aboriginal tribes talked of the Wendigo, the dead things that haunted the North and turned men into cannibals in the winter when food was scarce.

Other means of transformation occurred when said-men were too full of pride, rage or greed, growing in size with each consumed meal and associated with insanity.

The Ojibwe Nation made references to a similar creature known as the Baykok, a skeleton-like figure with translucent skin and red points for eyes.

Greek mythology was full of references to the undead. Some of the most notable included Charon, the ferryman of the underworld, King Minos, who served as one of its judges, Sisyphus, who tricked the god Thanatos into achieving immortality before being punished by Ares and the rest of the pantheon, Glaucus, the son of Minos who resurrected back to life. The story of Heracles and his ascension into godhood along with the tragic tale of Orpheus and Eurydice were also well known, while Christianity makes reference to Christ and Lazarus rising up from the grave.

The Bible also makes reference to the phenomenon in Ezekiel Chapter 37, Verse 7;

"...there was a noise, a rattling sound, and the bones came together, bone to bone. I looked, and tendons and flesh appeared on them and skin covered them, but there was no breath in them."

While all were fascinating, none really provided the answers Konrad was looking for.

That was, until he delved deeper into Norse mythology, where he found references to the lich, powerful magicians that used necromancy in order to sustain themselves, thereby attaining a form of immortality, and the draugr, undead creatures who in life were marginal or evil people that often guarded treasure in their burial mounds.

"That could be what we've got here, Baron." Dieter said.

"It sounds like it," Konrad admitted, "but what the hell is a draugr doing all the way over here in Germany?"

"You seem to forget, Baron, that there was a time when Germany had worshipped the Norse gods," said Dieter.

"True, but it doesn't explain the chants. It seems odd that a mere draugr would be worshipped as a god."

"Simpler times, Baron, with simpler people back then."

Konrad frowned.

"Even so, I doubt that "Spinal" is a Norse word."

Michael typed into his cellphone.

"He's right, Dieter," he said. "It's Latin in origin. Derived from the word "spinalis", late 16th Century."

"Maybe it was referred to by other names in other religions," Roger reasoned. "We know that it can shape-shift as evidenced by its performance as Max Carnage."

He tilted his head in thought.

"What are you thinking, Roger?" Konrad asked curiously.

"Do you think it could be Loki?" the bodyguard wondered.

"Then why didn't the chants call it by that name? Why "Spinal"?"

"It says that draugr guard treasure..." Michael said thoughtfully.

"So?"

"Do you think there is treasure to be found somewhere?"

"If there is, we're hardly ever going to find it, nor would we really have an opportunity," Konrad replied.

Dieter's eyes flashed.

"I just had a thought!" he said. "What if the _treasure_ is what our skeleton is looking for?"

"But why would it come to my arena?"

"Because _you have it_."

Konrad wrinkled his brows in confusion.

"I'm afraid I don't follow," he replied.

"Baron, the skeleton came the same day when you received those artifacts."

"Oh for god's sakes, Dieter," Konrad muttered. "Don't be stupid! None of the items are Norse in origin!"

"Still, you can't deny it's possible. It's too coincidental."

"Ja, because everyone knows that "Spinal" is a common name and word used in Mesopotamia and Tibet and that they've both had extensive connections and encounters with _Vikings_!" Konrad said sarcastically.

"I think I got something, Herr Baron," Lawrence said as he raised his cellphone. "I found a YouTube video about our skeleton."

Konrad and the others eagerly gathered around as he clicked on the link.

A fifteen minute video that had been streamed live, the speaker was an unshaven and crazed-looking man with wild gray hair, misshapen glasses and filthy clothes by the name of Harrison Coswell. A former professor of History and Occultism from Arkham University, he claimed to have been sacked by the higher ups of the institution due to their wanting to cover up the truth of his findings.

A quick search on Google found that Coswell had to be let go due to his highly erratic behavior, along with suggestions of there being mental instability and him having suffered a nervous breakdown due to the death of his family.

Unimpressed by this, Konrad initially wanted to turn it off, but at Lawrence's insistence continued to watch.

According to Coswell, he had been doing some research on a particular figure, a mad Swedish mystic from 1883 that had gone by the name of William Accola.

A mediocre naturalist from a relatively successful family, Accola had turned to mysticism and the occult following his encounter, or so he had claimed in his journal, with a "living skeleton" on an unnamed island.

In his examinations of certain dark texts, - the dreaded Pnakotic Manuscripts, the _Seven Cryptical Books of Hsan_ , the _Book of Eibon_ , Comte d'Erlotte's _Cultes des Goules,_ von Juntz's _Unassprechenlichen Kulten_ and the reviled Necronomicon by Abdul Alhazared, all of which were currently kept under heavy lock and key at Arkham University's forbidden archive section - Accola had uncovered references to what he dubbed as "Spina de Diaboli", or "Devil's spine", an immortal creature that had walked the earth since its inception.

The exact nature of the creature was a subject of much hypothesis by Coswell's online associates.

Some suggested that it was a former bandit punished for treachery in ancient times.

One proposed it to be part of a long line of skeletal warriors throughout the ages.

Another had suggested that it was in fact the physical expression, if not manifestation of Creation itself, a violent, tumultuous and terrible force that was neither good nor ill but just was, integral to the development of life.

Accola, however, had very different opinions about the creature; he believed that the skeleton was a conduit of power tethering worlds from beyond to this realm, and Accola was trying to find the mechanism by which "Spinal", as he had dubbed the creature at the time, was activated or allowed to exist.

Unfortunately the Swedish naturalist's notes had largely been destroyed.

The few that remained were practically unintelligible and suggested that Accola himself was becoming increasingly unstable.

According to Coswell, there were suggestions of the former naturalist having been involved with various occult groups later in life, including the notorious Cthulhu cult, even going so far as to recruit some of them to create his own sub-group called "the Children of Spinal".

Further details regarding Accola were practically nonexistent, the man disappearing altogether in 1922.

"To understand Accola, I made it an effort to understand his subject, and thus made Spinal part of my research," Coswell said in the video.

He stopped to take a sip from a cup, then looked back to the camera.

"I had the opportunity to visit the forbidden archives at the university and was thus able to review the materials that he had studied, and after thorough and careful examination, I believe that Accola may have been right on the money. Even more, with his suggested connection to the Cthulhu cult, it is my belief that Spinal is not only a tether, but also a chosen _harbinger_ for Cthulhu himself, if not his avatar, as proven by the fact that he carries a shield baring his visage in that video."

He was quiet for a moment, apparently reading something someone sent during his livestream.

"'How is Spinal activated?'" He read aloud, then shook his head. "I'm still trying to figure that out myself. For all I know it could be an incantation, or maybe exposure to some unknown element. Maybe a host is sought out and marked. Maybe it's a question of planetary or lunar alignment and gravitational forces. Maybe it's something seasonal. Maybe it's a certain time of month. Then again, perhaps Spinal doesn't even need to be activated, that he just _is_ , a phenomenon that is naturally occurring like the weather. I don't know. What I do know, however, is that Spinal's presence at Ultratech is troubling, and it only affirms my suspicions that mega-corporations are evil."

Konrad scowled.

"Turn that shit off," he said as the man went on into an anti-corporate rant. "Well thank you, Lawrence, for wasting fifteen minutes of everyone's time!"

Lawrence shook his head.

"I don't believe it was."

"And you believe that quack?"

"Herr Baron, _we have a skeleton upstairs that's moving on its own!"_ the bodyguard said. "Maybe not everything Coswell said is to be taken seriously, but obviously _something_ is causing that thing to move when it shouldn't!"

"I still think it's one of those relics," Dieter said.

"Alright, fine! We'll test your theory," Konrad said.

* * *

Konrad muttered to himself as he pulled himself up to the attic.

Grabbing the Baron's hand, Dieter pulled him to his feet, the other bodyguards waiting nervously, glancing to the skeleton as it twisted and arced itself on the table, roaring in frustration.

"You have the artifacts?" Dieter asked.

Konrad nodded.

"Okay."

The aristocrat stepped toward the writhing skeleton. Reaching into the pocket of his cloak, he pulled out the Tiger statue. Nothing. The skeleton continued ignoring him as it struggled.

He frowned.

"It's not working."

"Try holding it out in front of you and concentrate," Dieter said as he reached for his side arm.

"Concentrate?!" Konrad exclaimed. "What do you think I am, a Jedi?"

"Just try. If it reacts, we'll know there's a connection."

"How do _you_ know?!" he demanded

Dieter opened his mouth, paused, then shrugged.

"Honestly, I'm just making things up as we go along."

Konrad glared at the bodyguard.

Doing as instructed, he held the tiger bust up and concentrated. After staring at the skeleton for several minutes, he shook his head.

"Nothing."

Putting the statue into his pocket, he then pulled out the scroll and held it high.

A few seconds later, he gave an annoyed growl and turned around to face Dieter.

"This is ridiculous!" he said.

"Come on, Baron," the bodyguard urged.

Giving an exasperated sigh, Konrad looked back to the skeleton and repeated the process. The skeleton continued ignoring him and struggled in its bindings.

"Nothing again, Dieter," he said, looking over his shoulder at the bodyguard as he pocketed the scroll and pulled out the mask. "I told you-"

The skeleton came to a sudden abrupt stop, drawing everyone's attention. To Konrad's surprise, it stared at the mask in his hand.

"I'll be damned," Michael breathed.

"I KNEW IT! I FUCKING KNEW IT!" Dieter exclaimed. "I told you!"

Ignoring him, Konrad then focused his will into the object and watched as the bony fingers holding the sword unfurled, dropping it onto the floor with a clatter.

Looking to the mask in his hand, Konrad studied it for a moment, then hastily placed it away into his pocket. Shakily pulling off his cloak, he passed it to Roger as the skeleton started to laugh, its insane voice raising every hair on his body stiff and on end as he hurriedly crawled down the ladder, eager to get away as quickly as possible.

* * *

Once he finished calming down, he got up from the tub, shook his whole body, wiped himself clean then put on his pants along with a housecoat that hung on a nearby hook. Opening the door, Konrad stepped out to see Jurgen seated in a chair. None of the bodyguards were in the room.

"Are you alright, Herr Baron?" Jurgen asked.

"What do you want, Jurgen?" he grumbled.

The servant gave a short laugh.

"Boy you are sure in a mood," the butler said.

Konrad didn't say anything as he sat despondently down into a chair.

"What's wrong?"

The aristocrat was quiet for a moment, then spoke up in a quiet voice, "Do you remember our arguments about the artifacts that I buy, about magic?"

Jurgen looked at him with a start.

"Don't tell me that-"

"Ja," Konrad said grimly.

"This isn't some sort of a joke?" Jurgen asked.

"Do I look like I got a silly grin on my face?" Konrad spat as he rested one arm on the armrest while he massaged his temples. "Apparently one of the items I purchased had summoned that thing here, and it's because of me that that boy is in critical condition."

"Why were you in the bath for so long?" Jurgen asked.

Konrad was quiet for a moment, then gave a snort.

"I was scared." he said simply.

He chuckled.

"Ironic, isn't it? Me! A four hundred pound werewolf, scared of the idea that the supernatural exists!"

He tossed his head back into a harsh barking laugh. Jurgen's features were frozen into stone, causing him to stop. A few minutes of silence passed, followed by a deep heavy sigh.

"I never really had believed in it, Jurgen," he said. "Oh sure, some _small_ part of me had hoped that it was real, but I had hoped that it would come in the form of a miraculous recovery from my condition, not like this. To know that you stood in the presence of _actual_ evil, that you had it in your hands without even realizing and that your hands are now stained with _blood,_ your whole being _tainted_...it made me noxious. Like I needed to wash myself. I still have that feeling."

He shuddered.

"You'd think that with this discovery I'd be thrilled, right? That I would- _should_ have expected something like this, but you'd be wrong to assume that."

Konrad looked up fearfully at the servant.

"Am I evil? Is that why this is happening?"

"Don't talk like that, Herr Baron!" Jurgen said.

"I can't help it, Jurgen," Konrad replied. "I'm afraid."

The servant blinked, taken aback.

"Yes, that's right! You heard me, Jurgen," Konrad said as his whole body started to quiver. "I'm afraid! I can't help feeling as if there are invisible things all around me and that I'm being drawn into something I don't understand and don't even _want_ to understand! I feel like I'm being led down a path, and I don't like it! I feel absolutely powerless! I'm afraid that by the time I catch a glimpse of whatever's at the end of that tunnel that it'll be too late."

"Herr Baron, calm yourself!"

"I tried being a good person, haven't I?! I donated vast amounts of money to charities around the globe! I tried aiding those that needed help! I tried to be a good person!"

"Stop it, stop it!" Jurgen said as he went over to the Baron's position, grabbing his shoulders and shaking him. "Herr Baron! Get a hold of yourself, man! Breathe!"

Konrad took slow deep breaths. Once he had control of himself, Jurgen spoke.

"Look at me."

Konrad looked up and saw the servant giving him a patient, almost paternal, look of concern.

"You are NOT evil," he said, "just scared. Last night was an awful experience that no one could have anticipated. It had put tremendous strain on you, on all of us."

Konrad glanced down.

"I don't know what to do," he admitted.

"The choices are simple, Herr Baron," Jurgen replied. "A - we give the skeleton what it wants and just let it leave."

The aristocrat shook his head.

"Nein," he said. "That would be an awful idea. I was at the arena, Jurgen - it enjoys killing. Revels in it. If we give it the relic, then its bloodshed will go unabated and it will be made even more dangerous by the fact that it couldn't be controlled."

"Okay," Jurgen said, "then we go with option B - we get rid of the relic and hope that it follows."

"I can't do that, either. Otherwise, someone else will be stuck with it and more people will die. As a human being, I can't allow that to happen."

Jurgen smiled.

"This is not the talk of an evil person," he said as he gave Konrad a reassuring shake. "Option C - we destroy the relic."

Konrad glanced up in surprise.

"Destroy it? But-"

"If we let it continue to exist, Herr Baron," the servant warned in a stern voice, "people will continue to get hurt and will die. Unless you want to be beholden to the creature or whatever forces that control it and lose your soul in the process, then please, for your sake, listen to me. For the sake of your humanity and for all that is good, you will see to it that that thing is sent back to hell where it belongs."

The aristocrat was still for a moment as the words sunk in, deep in thought. Lifting his head up, he gave a nod. Jurgen gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze before pulling away.

"Dieter!" Konrad called.

The door opened as the bodyguards entered the room. Roger held his cloak.

"May I have my cloak, please?"

Roger stepped toward him, holding it out with both hands. Taking it from him, Konrad searched the pockets, then pulled out the troublesome mask. Staring at it, he ran a clawed finger over its features.

"Eight thousand euros for this ugly piece of shit," he muttered. "What a waste."

Lifting it high into the air, he slammed the relic to the floor with all his might, the impact creating a loud bang as it hit the ground.

To everyone's amazement and horror, the mask remained intact.

"Wha?"

Pressing his foot down on it, Konrad tried crushing the artifact, but for whatever reason it wouldn't bend. Putting the other foot on it, he stood there on top of the mask, then started jumping onto it, but no matter how many times he tried, the mask proved to be of considerable durability.

"I don't understand," he said. "Why won't it break?"

"May I, Baron?" Dieter asked.

Konrad backed away as everyone took turns jumping and standing on the mask. Even when everyone stood on it at the same time, the relic still didn't give way beneath their combined weight.

Picking up the relic, Konrad checked it front and back for damage.

Nothing.

Dieter took out a lighter.

"Let me figure this out," he said.

Handing it to him, Konrad watched as the bodyguard lit the mask with his lighter. It wasn't even burning, let alone catching fire. Neither the front, nor the back.

Everyone stared at the thing in wonder.

"What is this thing?" Michael said aloud.

Putting away his lighter, Dieter strained himself as he tried to break it in his hands and with his arms.

"The fuck is this thing made of, diamond?!" he exclaimed.

Shaking his head, he handed it back to Konrad.

"It's no good. Sorry, Baron. I tried."

"We all did, Dieter," Konrad said he held the mask in his hands, examining it. "I think I know someone who might be able to help us understand this thing."

Jurgen stiffened.

"You don't mean _him_ , do you?"

"Unfortunately, Jurgen, I do," Konrad answered. "Kan-Ra might know what exactly we're dealing with here, along with a way of destroying this thing."

The servant frowned.

"I don't like this, Herr Baron," he said. "I'm entirely against him being involved."

"You and me both, mein freund," Konrad said, "but we don't have a choice. Roger, go to my office. In the left hand drawer should be a list of directions on a yellow scrap of paper. Get it."

"Jawohl," the bodyguard replied.

"If we're going to see him, then we'll need to be conspicuous," Dieter said. "It'll be difficult with those journalists out front."

"We'll take your car," Konrad said. "I'll be in the backseat with a blanket draped over me. The excuse you can use at the security checkpoint is that it's your day off."

"No offense, Baron," Dieter said slowly, "but...you're kind of big. I don't know if you'd fit."

The aristocrat glared.

"Just try," he said as he took out his cellphone to call the guards.


	7. Chapter Six: Kan-Ra

**Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft and "The Wolf Man" is a property that belonging to Universal Studios. I do not own any of these characters.**

 **Song used: Hurrian Hymn No. 6** ( watch?v=QpxN2VXPMLc)

 **Chapter Six: Kan-Ra**

 _ **"Tyger Tyger, burning bright,**_  
 _ **In the forests of the night;**_  
 _ **What immortal hand or eye,**_  
 _ **Could frame thy fearful symmetry?**_

 _ **In what distant deeps or skies,**_  
 _ **Burnt the fire of thine eyes?**_  
 _ **On what wings dare he aspire?**_  
 _ **What the hand, dare seize the fire?**_

 _ **And what shoulder, & what art,**_  
 _ **Could twist the sinews of thy heart?**_  
 _ **And when thy heart began to beat,**_  
 _ **What dread hand? & what dread feet?**_

 _ **What the hammer? what the chain,**_  
 _ **In what furnace was thy brain?**_  
 _ **What the anvil? what dread grasp,**_  
 _ **Dare its deadly terrors clasp!**_

 _ **When the stars threw down their spears**_  
 _ **And water'd heaven with their tears:**_  
 _ **Did he smile his work to see?**_  
 _ **Did he who made the Lamb make thee?**_

 _ **Tyger Tyger burning bright,**_  
 _ **In the forests of the night:**_  
 _ **What immortal hand or eye,**_  
 _ **Dare frame thy fearful symmetry?" - "**_ The Tyger" by William Blake

"Okay, we're all clear, Baron," Dieter said quietly over his shoulder.

Konrad slowly rose up, stretching his back. It had been an hour since they left the front gates, and for the aristocrat, lying in the back of Dieter's shitty gray Porsche with a thick hot blanket that suffocated him for such a period was torture.

"You need to get a car with more space at the back, Dieter," Konrad said.

"Nah, I love this car," the bodyguard answered.

Konrad shook his head.

"Well, there's no accounting for taste."

Dieter casually flipped him the bird, his eyes focused on the road.

"How far are we from Kan-Ra?" he asked as he glanced around the countryside, making sure his hood, scarf and cloak concealed his features.

"A few minutes."

"This better be worth it," Konrad growled.

* * *

The place where Kan-Ra resided was an old, desolate, dilapidated-looking farmhouse in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by nothing but trees. Parts of the building were faded due to weathering, while other parts looked unfinished in its construction. Windows were either boarded up with plywood or devoid of glass, while parts of the building's inner structure were exposed. Konrad felt uncomfortable looking at the abandoned building. It reminded him of a rotted corpse with its bones partially picked clean.

Taking a nervous step forward, the duo made their way to the entrance of the farmhouse.

Konrad knocked.

"Come in," a voice from inside called.

Opening the door, the duo took one step forward before drawing away quickly, gagging at the foul stench inside.

Taking a couple of deep breaths, they prepared themselves, then stepped into the building, plugging their noses as they glanced around.

Leaves and dead animals littered the floors while flies buzzed all around them, their black bodies bloated little dots that hummed as they fed on the decaying maggot-covered remnants.

Certain sections of the building's walls were missing, exposing some beams here and there.

Ahead of them were an unfinished set of stairs while to the left was what looked to be a filthy kitchen.

To the right of the entrance was what looked to be a dimly lit den with a few chairs and a lit fireplace that crackled, the most complete-looking part of the house.

Sitting in one of the chairs in front of the fireplace, a man sat. Turning slightly in their direction, he gave an ugly grin.

"Ahh, Baron Von Sabrewulf," he said in a deceptively smooth and velvety voice. "I've been expecting you. Come in, both of you, and sit by the fire."

Konrad and Dieter nervously glanced at each other, then took up his offer.

Entering the room, Konrad noticed strange runic symbols on the walls and parts of the floor, painted in something red, the corners of the room lit with a collection of candles.

Next to the walls were various jars filled with a yellow fluid, each containing some specimen.

Konrad saw squirrels, hares, shrews, ravens, owls and various other birds and animals, while other jars had what appeared to be organs.

One jar had something that suspiciously looked like a human hand.

After carefully examining the chairs, they seated themselves down three feet away from him.

Konrad eyed the man next to him.

Although Kan-Ra was a small man, only five foot five and barely over a hundred pounds - one hundred and three or one hundred and five, if Konrad were to give a proper estimate, - with a very frail-looking frame, that only belied the dangerous air about him.

Bald, with white eyes devoid of irises or pupils, his skin had a sickly yellow cadaverous quality that looked gold in the light of the fireplace, covered in wrinkles and looked as if it was either decaying or like it was made from sand.

Though he wore a long black coat that covered much of his body, his arms, legs and shoeless feet remained exposed, all covered in bandages, while relics of some sort gleamed from his waist, including what looked clearly like a horseshoe. Around his neck, Kan-Ra wore a gold necklace with seven or so thick round rubies along with a beaded turquoise necklace that had bits of gold, with six large emeralds that hung from the bottom of thick cylindrical bead pieces.

Holding his hands out to the fire, Konrad stared at the long claw-like nails on the tips of his fingers.

Everything about Kan-Ra repulsed him - his skin, his voice, his smell, which reeked of formaldehyde, sand and decay, but the ugliest feature he had, above all else, was his _smile._

Though his dental hygiene was superb, with perfectly shaped and colored teeth that would make any dentist proud, it was the manner in which he smiled that made Konrad's flesh creep. It was by far the _ugliest_ smile he had ever seen on a person, a wide, cruel and horrible-looking thing that made it look as if the skin was pulled taut against the man's skull. Every time he smiled, it looked as if the whole man's face and head would split in half at any given moment.

Had not it been for his condition, Konrad would have done everything in his power to avoid being in the presence of the grinning man.

 _'What I would give to smack that smile off his ugly face,'_ he thought in loathing.

Konrad had first met Kan-Ra at a low-end auction in a downtown section of Munich ages ago, when the latter sneered at him for purchasing a fake relic.

Konrad's first thoughts were to beat the arrogant man's brains out, but he had refrained from doing so for fear of being spotted moving from his wheelchair.

Before he could demand an explanation, the enigmatic figure gave him the address to his home on a piece of paper, introducing himself as a collector and seller of rare antiquities that specialized in the types of things he sought before disappearing.

Perplexed, Konrad initially dismissed him as an insane hoaxer at the time.

When the aristocrat had lost his voice and none of the doctors believed him able to recover, however, desperation forced him to visit the strange figure in this equally strange place. Once he finished drinking down the most revolting-tasting concoction ever created, Konrad had then experienced the most excruciating pain in his throat that he ever felt. His throat burned and ached as he sputtered, and Dieter had been just about ready to gun down the ghoulish figure when Konrad's voice returned. Since then, the two continued to do business with each other.

"So, tell me, Baron," Kan-Ra said, his grin flashing in the light of the fireplace while the rest of his face was concealed in shadow, "why have you come this time? Are you interested in performing another trade? I know I have some pickled rodent brains that could be of use."

"No, Kan-Ra," Konrad said, "I came only for information."

Kan-Ra gave him a curious look.

"Information?" he repeated. "What subject?"

"What do you know of Spinal?"

He lifted his head at that.

"Ahh, the Devil's spinal column!" he said. "William Accola's little pet project. I haven't heard that name in years."

"You know of it?" Konrad asked.

He nodded.

"Indeed," he said. "The creature has had a very long and bloodied history. I had even provided Accola himself with some materials for his research."

Konrad blinked in surprise.

"You _knew_ Accola?!" he exclaimed. "That's impossible."

Kan-Ra gave him an amused look, but didn't respond.

"How old are you?" Konrad asked curiously.

The pale eyed man grinned, then gave a dark chuckle.

"What can you tell me about it?" Konrad pressed.

"What will you give in exchange?" he said, his Cheshire grin growing. "I don't offer my services for free."

Reaching into the pocket of his cloak, Konrad pulled out a small bag and tossed it to him.

Catching it with one hand, Kan-Ra lowered it down into view as he opened it up. One of the peculiarities about dealing with Kan-Ra, at least in Konrad's experience, was that the man treated legal tender with an open level of disdain.

In fact, when offered vast sums of money for his expertise or relics, sums that would have made Jurgen scream in outrage, Kan-Ra would pointedly refuse all offers and turn him away.

However, he did display a peculiar fondness for currency of a much older type, usually gold coins from antiquity, but often the only things that interested Kan-Ra were gems, even those that were considered unremarkable or inexpensive. Konrad suspected that the man was daft, but he never voiced his opinion out loud in his presence.

Rolling the gems into the palm of his hand, Kan-Ra examined them, picking them up piece by piece.

"You approve?" Konrad asked.

He received his answer in the form of a grin.

"How can I help you?" Came the reply.

"What can you tell me of Spinal and the mask of Ancients?"

The pale-eyed man leaned back in his chair, looking almost like he was closing his eyes.

"The creature has gone by many names throughout the centuries," he said. "Some of them are probably already familiar to you."

"Loki?"

The corner of his mouth lifted.

"That's one," he said.

"The auction that I bought this from said that the mask possesses features that commemorated some of the Mesopotamian gods and goddesses. Innana, Suen, Enki the god of magic. Ereshkigal the goddess of the underworld, her fearsome husband Nergal."

Kan-Ra shook his head.

"I can't say with much certainty, but it is my belief that those features were added on at a later period. Then again, I haven't examined the mask," he said. "I can't tell you every aspect of the mask's history due to the fact that a lot of it remains unknown, but what I do know with certainty was that it had changed hands numerous times throughout the ages, wielded across the globe. Pirates, bandits, mercenaries, warlords, emperors,...kings."

He paused.

"Among those had been Neriglissar of Babylon, who used Spinal to conquer the armies of King Appuasu as well as seize the royal cities of Ura and Kirsi, burning everything and everyone to the ground."

"Jesus," Dieter muttered.

Kan-Ra smirked. He had a distant look in his eye, as if somehow remembering or reliving the experience.

"With it he also destroyed the city of Pitusu, and from the pass of Sallune to the border of Lydia, fires were started."

"You should learn to hide the elation in your voice," Konrad muttered.

The man scoffed.

"Elation? Hardly," he said. "The Greeks, Persians, and Romans had used it extensively in their wars. I heard rumors that supposedly Alexander the Great had it at one point until it was stolen in the middle of the night. In 79 BC, some of the Romans became so fearful of the creature that they chucked him and the mask into a volcano in order to destroy them both."

"Obviously a false report," Konrad said.

"I wouldn't say so," he said. "The volcano that the creature had been tossed into was Mount Vesuvius."

Konrad's brows furrowed.

"Mount Vesuv-?!" he said. "Are you saying that Spinal was responsible for the destruction of Pompeii?!"

Kan-Ra didn't say anything. He only gave a disgusting smile before continuing with his accounts.

"The relic eventually found its way among the Germanic peoples, one of the most notable users being, albeit very briefly, Attila the Hun, before the artifact was stolen again. The Vikings had also laid claim to the mask, using him for much of their conquests. At least, before the Crusaders got hold of the relic. They too used it in some of their battles, but a lot of effort was made to destroy it. It's made its way through China, India, Japan, the Americas...I don't think there's a single continent or piece of land that _hadn't_ been stepped on by Spinal."

Konrad looked at him eagerly.

"How do we destroy it?"

Kan-Ra took a long time answering.

"As far as I know," he said slowly, "I don't think a way exists. At least, not yet. Many have tried crushing it, burning it, stabbing it, trampling it underfoot or by carriage, throwing it to the bottom of the sea..."

He shook his head.

"For all intents and purposes, both the mask and the creature it controls are completely indestructible," he said.

Konrad lowered his head.

Damn.

"Not what you were hoping to hear, I see," Kan-Ra said before giving another one of those hideous smiles. "If you would like, I could take the mask for myself, that way you wouldn't have to be concerned about carrying the burden."

Alarms were blaring off loudly in the aristocrat's head the moment the man said that.

"No thank you," Konrad replied.

"Are you sure?" Kan-Ra asked in a tone that smacked of insincere concern to the aristocrat. "You already have troubles of your own. Are you sure that you'd be up to the task?"

"I'll manage," Konrad retorted.

Kan-Ra gave a shrug.

"As you wish," he replied. "See yourselves out."

Konrad nodded to Dieter, then got up. As they left the room, Konrad looked over his shoulder to see Kan-Ra leaning down to his left, picking up an old lyre from the floor beside his chair. Once he straightened himself back up, the pale-eyed man brushed his long nails against its strings, then started to play a song.* It was an oddly hollow and poignant tune that made the aristocrat pause in his steps.

Turning back to face the door, Konrad left the strange man as he stared ahead into the fireplace, lost in apparent recollection, the smile gone.

* * *

"So what do you make of what he says?" Dieter asked as he drove the car.

Konrad shook his head in the backseat.

"One never knows with that man," he replied. "What about you?"

Dieter raised his chin up thoughtfully.

"If what he says is true," he said slowly, "then we're not getting rid of this thing anytime soon."

"That had crossed my mind too, unfortunately."

"So," Dieter said, "why not make the best of it?"

Konrad gave him a quizzical look.

"'Make the best of it'?" he repeated. "Dieter, this isn't some flat tire or a misplaced order."

"What I mean, Baron," Dieter said, "is why not use today's technology to study it?"

The Baron quietly digested the words, then gave a slow nod.

"That actually is a good idea."

"Of course it is! The way I see it, the little bastard is going to cost you money, so, why not use this as an opportunity to make money back?"

"And what, Dieter, sort of opportunity are you talking about?" Konrad asked. "How could I possibly make money off of him?"

"Oh come on! Do you know how many would pay through the nose to have an indestructible soldier under their control?"

"I'll _pretend_ that I didn't hear you say that."

"Baron," Dieter said in exasperation, "the creature could be of tremendous militaristic value!"

"I am NOT going to have this thing employed in wars, Dieter," Konrad said firmly.

"Then why not use it for one of your private security companies?"

"Dieter, the creature is a walking liability. It is far too volatile and bloodthirsty to be used. I am NOT going to have a repeat of what happened last night. Even more, having it out in the open would only bring to light the horrible fact that what happened at the tournament was real."

"Okay, fine," the bodyguard reluctantly conceded. "Then why not study the thing that's keeping him together and find a way to, I don't know, apply those forces to the whole body rather than just the bones?"

"What, like a fountain of youth?" Konrad said doubtfully.

"Yeah. People have been searching for immortality since forever, Baron. Who wouldn't want to have eternal life? You could have the R and D guys examine the creature, make a serum and boom, money out the wazoo."

"Interesting proposal. I can see it now - "Introducing "Regen!" by Ultratech! WARNING, side-effects may include hair loss, skin loss, insanity, a bloody skeleton and an inclination toward committing extreme violence." Yes, Dieter, the Board of Directors would LOVE to have a product like that on their shelves!" Konrad snapped. "No chances of any lawsuits there!"

Dieter shrugged.

"Just a suggestion," he replied.

"Any other bright ideas?"

The bodyguard lifted his head, pondering.

"What about..." he said slowly, "...studying its energy?"

"And what do you mean by that?"

"Well, we know that the thing emits some form of energy as evidenced by those projectiles and those giant arms," Dieter reasoned aloud, "so, why not study those aspects and find a way to, I don't know, harvest said-energy from it into a potentially viable fuel resource?"

Konrad frowned.

"It's an interesting thought, Dieter," he said, "but there's a problem - that would require one to antagonize the creature into using its abilities."

"You wouldn't have to get it to _attack_ , Baron," Dieter said. "Just study its method of transport. In all likelihood both the projectiles and its ability to teleport itself draw from the same repository. In theory, anyway."

Konrad placed his chin in his hand in thought. It's possible that could work.

"Plus," Dieter continued, " _that_ particular ability in itself has potential to be an enormous money maker. Militaries would love to have something like that!"

Konrad rolled his eyes.

"Oh for god's sake, not this again!" he grumbled.

"No, hear me out!" Dieter protested. "A soldier that can phase in and out of the field and gather intel undetected, thereby reducing the costs of using aircraft carriers for secret HALO jumps or extraction? That could be something that can benefit militaries and police officers everywhere."

"Dieter," Konrad said pointedly, "what you're suggesting is illegal and immoral. That would require human experimentation, and I am NOT going to let some poor soldier be subjected to a process that may turn him inside out!"

"We know that it's possible for a person to survive the process, Baron," Dieter countered. "After all, you yourself underwent the experience and came back intact."

The aristocrat exhaled.

"True," he said, "but still, I object to the idea of someone being experimented on in this manner."

Dieter gave a wry grin.

"Who said anything about _human_ experimentation, Baron?" he said.

"And what do you mean by that?" Konrad demanded.

"Your _machines_ , Baron," Dieter explained. "Surely a combat android that can teleport onsite behind enemy lines hasn't crossed your mind?"

Konrad opened his mouth to berate the bodyguard, but stopped, lowering his chin contemplatively.

"Yes," he said aloud, nodding. "Yes, you're right, Dieter! You actually have some great ideas!"

The bodyguard smirked.

"I have my moments," he said.

"And you should have those more often!" Konrad said.

The two were quiet as Dieter continued to drive.

"Still doesn't account for your tastes in art and cars, though," he added.

"HA!" Dieter laughed as he leaned back with a wide amused smile.

The two chuckled amongst themselves, then fell back into silence.

"Do you think the creature could be related to our friend in your walk-in freezer? The, uh...whatcha call it,...Homo Glacius?" Dieter asked.

Konrad frowned. Leaning back in his seat, pondering quietly, he looked back to the bodyguard.

"Doubtful. By the way, your Latin is shit, Dieter," he said. "It's _Homo Glacies."_

"Meh, whatever."

The aristocrat shook his head.

"Take my advice, mein freund," he said, "never take up a job as an instructor in Latin."

"Duly noted."

* * *

Journalists clustered in front of the gates to the Sabrewulf estate. As the Porsche came toward the entrance, they rushed to the vehicle like locusts, bombarding Dieter with a plethora of questions.

"Can you tell us anything about the show last night?"

"Do you know if Ultratech plans on restoring the building?"

"Were you aware of what was going on behind the scenes?"

"Will the show go on?"

"Have you heard from the Baron?"

"Can you give a comment?"

"Yeah. Fuck off!" Dieter said irritably. "Joe, get these fuckers outta the way, will ya?"

As guards tried moving the reporters away from the car, forming a blockade, the gates opened, allowing the vehicle to slip through.

* * *

The Porsche parked inside the garage. Stepping out from the vehicle, the duo were greeted by Jurgen with wheelchair prepared.

"Welcome back, Herr Baron," Jurgen said as the aristocrat settled into the wheelchair, Dieter closing the car door behind him. "Was your visit worthwhile?"

"It was...illuminating," Konrad answered.

"Did he have the answers you were looking for?"

"Far and between," the aristocrat replied. "Did I get any calls while I was away?"

"Many, including an urgent message from Mr. Kellog saying that he and the Board of Directors would like to speak with you immediately."

Shit.

"I'll take that call."

"Not so fast, Herr Baron," Jurgen said in a stiff tone, grabbing the wheelchair with one hand.

Glancing up at him, Konrad saw the butler's mouth tense and eyes narrowed.

"What's wrong?" Konrad asked.

"Have either of you forgotten about something?"

The aristocrat gave him a puzzled look.

"Like what?"

"Ohh, I don't know," Jurgen said, "a little detail that seemed to slip one's mind, like, say, whether one had paid the bill today, whether they forgot something at work, or, perhaps, the _foul-mouthed person tied up in the toolshed_?"

Konrad's frame seized up the moment the servant mentioned that in an icy tone.

"Oh, would you look at the time!" Dieter exclaimed suddenly, turning back to the car. "I just remembered that I had to be somewhere."

"Don't you _dare_ leave." Jurgen said with a glare, fixing the bodyguard still. "Did either of you _think_ that you'd sneak something like this past me?"

Both men remained silent as the servant scrutinized them, his arms folded behind his back.

"Who is he?" he demanded.

Dieter cleared his throat. "He's...uh...well.."

"Spill it out, man."

The bodyguard sighed.

"His name is Ben Ferris, an ex-Special Forces Lieutenant," he said. "He's, uh, an associate of mine, a...specialist."

"A "specialist"," Jurgen repeated, nodding, his hands behind his back. "And by specialist you mean...?"

"He's, ah, a problem-solver."

"A problem-solver. And what sort of "problems" are we talking about? I gather that this Mr. Ferris isn't a lawyer now, is he?"

"No."

"If I were to Google his name, will I find anything?"

"He likes to keep his tracks clean."

"I see," Jurgen said evenly, circling around the duo. "So, our Mr. Ferris is a _specialist problem-solver_ with a shady background."

"It was my fault, Jurgen," Dieter explained.

"Of course it is!" Jurgen snapped as he got into the bodyguard's face. " _You are an idiot, Dieter! A bloody fucking idiot!"_

The bodyguard flinched under the man's gaze and sharp tone.

"Look," Dieter said, staring down, "I thought that I could help the Baron get what he wanted and so I turned to Ben for help in getting certain items."

The servant was deathly still.

"What items?" he demanded. "WHAT ITEMS?!"

Dieter inhaled, then sighed.

"A Tibetan statue and a scroll," he said. "The Baron said that supposedly they were integral to self-healing. Ben got a little rough with a group of Tiger cultists or...monks."

"So your friend was responsible for that incident in Tibet," Jurgen said slowly. "And let me guess, he found out who you worked for and was blackmailing you."

"No, I swear it wasn't like that." Dieter protested. "I can explain."

"I pray that you _don't_!" Jurgen snapped. "I don't want to be an accessory, nor do I want Herr Baron to be one either. Because of your recklessness and stupidity you've not only put those monks into that hospital but you've also put this house in jeopardy as well! And you've had the gall to bring that _thug_ here!"

"Hey! That wasn't my idea!" the bodyguard snapped back, but gave a look of alarm once the words left his mouth.

The servant stared at him, then looked over at Konrad.

"It's true," Konrad admitted quietly. "Dieter was just following orders."

He looked down.

"We had just finished doing business with Mr. Ferris and were making our way back to the limo," he recounted. "Ferris took offense to what Dieter had said and so decided to pursue and take it out on him. The man's a maniac. He'd have killed him, Jurgen. I tried to intervene, but ended up getting the crap beaten out of me instead."

"That explains the bruises on both of you. Why bring him here?"

"I panicked," Konrad said. "He saw my face, Jurgen."

"Even so, I doubt anyone would have believed the ravings of some bruised-up thug about a werewolf."

"He said that he used to work for the CIA. Plus, even though I used a fake name, I believe that he knew who I was."

That made the servant pause.

"And what makes you so certain about that?"

"He didn't say anything outright, just hinted," Konrad said.

Jurgen frowned, shaking his head.

"Jurgen, I'm sorry, mein freund."

The servant remained silent.

"Jurgen, please say something."

"And what is it that you want me to say?" he demanded. "Do you expect a simple sorry to excuse everything?"

"No, I don't," Konrad said. "But I need your help."

"And how do you expect me to do that?!" he retorted. "I can't just wiggle my nose and make your little cockup go away now, can I?!"

"It's still salvageable, Dieter said, drawing Jurgen's attention.

"What do you mean?

"Look, I got the Baron into this mess. I can sort it out."

"You better," Jurgen said in a threatening voice.

"Where is Ben now?"

"I took him into one of the guest rooms."

"You what?!"

"It was better than just leaving him out there where he could either freeze to death or have some guard or reporter stumble upon him!" Jurgen snapped.

The bodyguard's eye twitched.

"I'll get him out of here," he replied.

"One last thing, Dieter," the servant said, stepping toward Dieter until he stopped directly in front of him, his tone low and threatening. "If you EVER pull a stunt like this again, don't expect to come back. You will be out of here so fast that your head will spin. And I promise you, regardless of your friendship with Herr Konrad, I'll personally make sure that you are charged and sent to the shittiest cell in the shittiest prison possible. Do you understand?"

Dieter's jaw was clenched shut, his face reddening with repressed anger.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

"Yes, Jurgen," Dieter said. "You made it perfectly clear."

"Good. Now get out of my sight."

Whipping round to the garage exit, the bodyguard marched up the ramp and angrily flung it open before disappearing from view.

"I'm sorry, Jurgen," Konrad said.

Jurgen shook his head, his back facing him.

"I don't know what to do with you, Herr Baron," he said. "You are worse than a child. At least with Dieter he can be counted on to do something stupid, but you! It's like you secretly _want_ to be discovered."

Konrad didn't reply. Jurgen turned around to face him.

"Do you?"

He shrugged.

"I suppose on a certain level that's what I want," he said. "Better than waiting around, counting the days that go by, wondering when I could go outside... _if_ I'll ever get the chance to go outside. Sometimes I get stir-crazy, like I'm being suffocated in this damn castle, in this damn wheel chair! So many eyes keeping people out, yet those same eyes keep me in, forcing me to do nothing but _think_ , wondering and worrying about whether someone just happened to catch a glimpse of me or not. Wondering about whether or not I'm still a man or if I'm less than a man now. Wondering...if I am any closer to being cured."

He gave a heavy sigh of longing.

"Do you know how long it's been since I've gone out with a woman, Jurgen?" he asked rhetorically. "I used to wear Giorgio Armani shirts, shoes and suits, clothes of the best quality, but now because of this fucking thing that I have I've been denied that! I can't put a shirt, shoe or suit on without ripping it to hell because my neck and feet have become too thick! The last woman I dated and kissed was when I was a teenager! There's so many things I wanted to do, but I'm almost fifty years old and it seems like a lifetime has passed by without me knowing it. Where has it all gone?"

"If you are unhappy living like this, Herr Baron," Jurgen said quietly, "then why not let the world in on your secret?"

Konrad scowled. "Jurgen, please."

"Nein, really. Deformity isn't anything new, Herr Baron. There are people born with Siamese twins, malformed hands, flippers for hands, scaly skin-"

"Ja, I'm quite aware of that, thank you very much!"

"Herr Baron, there are people out there born with less than you do." The servant said. "People who have had it so much worse."

 _"I know that, Jurgen!"_ Konrad snapped.

"Then why not tell the world, get them on your side?"

"And how do you propose that? What, you expect me to go on Oprah and just show everyone that I have the single worst case of hypertrichosis the world has ever seen?! That my legs are fucked up?! That I'm fucking blue?! I have a _tail_ , Jurgen, a _fucking tail!_ How many have to hold up their tail and shave their ass just so that they can properly take a shit?! _You expect me to go out there and announce that I am a FREAK?!"_

Shouting that last part, he slammed his right fist down angrily on the wheelchair's armrest, breaking it, causing part of it to dangle awkwardly from his chair.

"How is my announcing that I'm a werewolf going to protect my position at the company?! My rights to property?! To marriage?! My rights to vote and have children?! The law doesn't recognize the rights of _monsters_ , Jurgen! I'll lose everything!"

"Herr Baron, if you were to hold a press conference and reveal your condition to the world, you could use that to your advantage and gain public sympathy, perhaps even establish a legal precedent! For all we know there may be others out there with your condition, and by making your files accessible to the rest of the Medical community, the better the chances of finding a cure!"

"There aren't any others, Jurgen!" Konrad said through clenched teeth. "I'm the only one there is. I searched every part of the internet and the world and I haven't found a God. Damn. Thing."

"You don't know that for certain."

Konrad snarled. "Even if hypothetically there are others like me, why don't they come out?"

"Because they're just as afraid as you are," Jurgen countered.

"And you expect me to do so! To become some sort of spokesperson for the Wolf men and women of the world?!" Konrad muttered. "Ja, _that's_ precisely what I want to be known for! Forgive me if I'm not as altruistic and as self-sacrificial as you suggest, Jurgen, but I still have _some_ self-respect! I don't need the humiliation of being stared at, poked and prodded by the public and doctors everywhere!"

"Self-respect! Is that what all this is?! Hiding in the shadows, whining like a baby and spending vast amounts of money on trinkets under constant threat of going to prison?! Is that your idea of self-respect and not wanting to be humiliated?!"

Konrad violently yanked the broken piece of the armrest that dangled from his wheelchair and flung it hard at Jurgen, who barely had time to duck down as it slammed against the wall and clattered to the floor.

Konrad's hand trembled furiously as he stared angrily at Jurgen. Raising himself back up and turning around toward the ramp, the servant faced the door, his back facing his employer.

"You need to call Mr. Kellog," Jurgen said in an even voice, not bothering to look at him. "We'll talk about this later."

As Jurgen departed, Konrad remained in the garage, staring dejectedly to the floor, his form still.

* * *

Later, Konrad worked quietly on his laptop in the den at a desk, the fireplace burning behind him. He didn't want to have the meeting in his office, not with ARIA listening in. Once he made certain that everything was in proper working order, he activated the vid-screen on his laptop, watching as David and the other Board members appeared onscreen.

"Ah, there you are! Guttentag, everyone!" he greeted.

"Ah! Mr. Chairman," David responded neutrally. "Glad to hear from you. We have much to discuss."

Dread settled itself onto Konrad's shoulders as he waited to be blasted for his incompetence and gross mishandling of the situation.

Dread turned into surprise as David started to let out a hearty chuckle.

"Well done on last night's show, Mr. Chairman!" he approved.

Konrad blinked.

"What?" he said.

David boisterously laughed along with others at his response.

"Do you hear the earnestness and confusion in his voice?" he said through his chuckles, his laughter infectious.

Soon everyone onscreen were laughing.

"I-I knew that you were resourceful and talented, Mr. Chairman," David said as he wiped his eyes, "but last night's program really showed you pulling out all the stops. People absolutely loved it!"

"They did?" Konrad asked, taken aback.

"Oh yes," David said. "The ratings for that episode were through the roof! As of this moment it's the number one video on YouTube."

Konrad frowned. Fucking YouTube.

"The special effects that you employed were remarkable. The creatures were so lifelike. Who did the special effects?"

Konrad stared awkwardly at the screen.

"Ah, well, it was, uh..."

"Go ahead, Mr. Chairman," David said patiently.

"The creatures were...they were..." he stammered, "done by an independent special effects crew."

"Really?" David said interestedly. "What are they called?"

"They're new kids on the block," Konrad lied. "Nobody would have heard of them. They did some low budget horror movie stuff."

"I hope they weren't expensive."

"They weren't." Konrad assured.

"Well, kudos to them," David said. "They did an outstanding job. People especially loved the werewolf."

The aristocrat blinked. "Really?"

"Absolutely. There were, however, a few issues."

Konrad narrowed his eyes. "What issues?"

"Some of the viewers were complaining about the lack of realism in the werewolf's movements and the way it was fighting. A werewolf is supposed to bite and howl."

"So I understand," Konrad muttered.

"Also," David continued, "they didn't really know what to call it, so they had no way of identifying it."

"It has a name," Konrad said.

"Really? What is it?"

The aristocrat inhaled through his nostrils, then sighed.

"Sabrewulf..."

 _"Sabrewulf_!" David burst out laughing, the whole room and screen joining in with him.

Konrad remained still, then faked a few chuckles.

David wiped the tears away from his eyes as everyone settled down.

"Oh my god," he said between breaths. "Oh, that is funny!"

"I'm glad you are amused, David," Konrad lied.

"I should have known that you'd do something like that!"

"Well," Konrad said, "you know me. I'm a regular jokester, as you say."

"The audience will love it!" he said, chuckling. "Plus it fits!"

Konrad laughed.

"Yes! Yes, it does!" he said.

As the laughter died down, David took a moment to recover.

"Ahh. Where was I?" he asked.

"You were talking about other issues," Konrad replied.

"Ah yes. Other issues," David repeated. "I have to admit the graphic content was rather unnecessary with the skeleton transformation, plus we've been getting letters from upset parents about that nudist that ruined the pre-game show."

The aristocrat gaped at the screen.

"You're serious?" he said.

"Oh yes," David said. "That was absolutely dreadful. You really ought to increase security to keep that sort of thing from happening again."

"Well," Konrad said, "I would, but given that the building is now destroyed, thanks to that _earthquake_ , that will have to take a backseat for now."

"Indeed," David nodded. "That was unfortunate business, although thankfully no one got hurt. All of the damages should be covered by our insurance company, though, including the Theseus androids you rigged. Terrible shame about Eagle's manager."

Konrad nodded. "Yes."

"Speaking of which, have you heard from Eagle?"

"Oh yes," Konrad lied. "He said that he's going on holiday someplace. Didn't tell me where, exactly."

"Oh good."

"Why do you ask?"

"Well it's silly really. People have been commenting on his absence from the news and social media lately and were growing concerned, even going so far as to believe that what happened last night was actually real!" David said the last part with a laugh. "But that's very reassuring. If you could get in touch with him and abate these fears, it would be much appreciated."

The aristocrat looked darkly at the screen, his mouth drawn in a tight grim line.

"I'll try," he said. "So I take it you and the others would like to cancel the show?"

"On the contrary, Mr. Chairman. After much discussion, the Board and I actually feel that more could be gained with this shift in the program's focus."

"You do?" Konrad said in surprise.

"Absolutely. Since monsters are popular with the mainstream, especially with teenagers and children, there's plenty of potential licensing and merchandising opportunities available, so we're all in favor of your renewal of the copyright. Of course, the decision to continue with this is yours, Mr. Chairman," David said. "What say you?"

He stared at the screen in contemplation.

"I can't imagine that the program would continue to have high ratings with just two monsters," he replied.

"Well, maybe mix it up a bit," David said. "Have someone fight the skeleton, someone else the werewolf, then each other. Once that's finished, bring in a new monster into the fold."

"You want _more_ monsters?" Konrad said.

"But of course. Diversification is one of the keys to success, Mr. Chairman, and as you have pointed out there's only so much you can do with only two characters. Besides, it will keep the show fresh and the audiences on their toes in anticipation. They'll love it!" David explained.

Konrad winced. Him and his big fat mouth.

"Will it be a problem?"

Konrad thought about it.

"No, it won't," he answered. "However, if we're to renew the copyright, the tournament will need to undergo some revisions, especially in its format."

"Fair enough. What do you have in mind?"

* * *

 _"Larry!"_

 _"Gwen, I'm going away."_

 _"Away? But why?"_

 _"I've got to go. I can't stay here any longer."_

 _"Let me go with you. I'll fetch a few things and be back in a minute."_

 _"No, no. I'm going alone."_

 _"But I can help you!"_

 _"You wouldn't want to run away with a murderer, would you?"_

 _"Larry, you're not. You know you're not."_

 _"I killed Bela. I killed Richardson. If I stay around here much longer, you can't tell who's going to be next!"_

 _The moment he said that, he looked at her in horrible realization, his eyes glassy and frightened. "Wait... It might even..."_

 _"Please! I've still got the charm you gave me, remember?" Gwen said as she showed him the charm around her neck._

 _"Yeah, yeah, I know, but I'm afraid," he said as he took her hand, then paused, staring down into the palm as a pentagram appeared, marking her as his next victim._

 _"Larry! What is it?"_

 _"Your hand." he said in horror._

 _"I can't see anything."_

 _"Mr. Talbot." A man said, wearing his robe._

 _"Father! I'm going with Larry."_

 _"No, it's no use!" Larry exclaimed as he ran out of the door._

"Amen to that," Konrad said as he raised his glass of wine to Lon Chaney, taking a long gulp before refilling it. Leaning back against the wall on his bed, his cloak discarded, he continued watching "The Wolf Man" until he heard a knock.

"Who is it?"

"It's Lawrence, Herr Baron." The voice said from the other side of the door.

"Come in," he said.

Lawrence stepped into the room as the Baron paused the movie and put his glass onto a nearby drawer.

"Does Jurgen need something?" Konrad asked.

The bodyguard shook his head.

"No, Herr Baron, just me." Lawrence said nervously.

"What is it?"

Lawrence gave him an uncomfortable look.

"I would like to resign," he said.

Konrad blinked.

"Have I been a terrible employer?" he asked.

"No, Herr Baron!" Lawrence affirmed, shaking his head. "Not at all. I like working for you, and I can't think of many that I'd rather serve."

"What brought on this change?"

The bodyguard sighed.

"I know this might come off as something of a shock, Herr Baron," Lawrence said slowly, "but these past few hours have given me much to think about. I'm terrified."

Konrad slowly nodded.

"You and me both," he admitted. "I'd say there would be something wrong with you if you had said otherwise."

Lawrence gave a small laugh, then cast his eyes down.

"I hate the idea of letting you down, sir, of abandoning my duty to serve you-"

"You haven't," Konrad affirmed. "I can't think of many I'd rather have by my side."

He sighed.

"But," he continued, "given the circumstances around here lately, perhaps it's not the best place for you."

Lawrence looked like he was trying everything he could to keep it all in. "I'm really sorry, Herr Baron."

"Don't be," Konrad said as he put an assuring hand on his shoulder, then a strong pat. "You deserve better."

He looked up at the Baron.

"Do you believe in God, sir? Heaven, Hell, that sort of thing?" he asked with uncertainty.

Konrad shook his head.

"I don't know what to believe on that front, Lawrence," he said. "Have you thought about what you're going to do afterwards?"

The bodyguard nodded.

"Ja, I was thinking of becoming a priest," he said.

The aristocrat raised a brow.

Lawrence laughed. "I know, it's not the sort of thing that I'd say or consider, but-"

"I understand," Konrad said as he pulled his hand away. "You will continue to receive payment for the remainder of your services."

The bodyguard nodded. "Thank you, Herr Baron."

Konrad held out his clawed hand.

Lawrence gave a small smile, then reached out, taking it into his own and gave a firm shake.

"Auf Wiedersehen, mein freund."

The bodyguard opened his mouth to say something, but stopped. Letting go, he turned around and headed to the door, then gave one final glance to the Baron.

"I'll pray for you, Herr Baron."

As he disappeared from view, Konrad went back to the drawer and picked up his glass, then played the movie. Swearing aloud, he rewound it, waited a minute or two, then played it again.

 _"The way you walk is thorny, through no fault of your own. But as the rain enters the soil, the river enters the sea, so tears run to a predestined end. Find peace for a moment, my son."_


	8. Chapter Seven: Cinder

**Chapter Seven: Cinder**

 _ **"Hope not ever to see Heaven. I have come to lead you to the  
**_ ** _other shore; into eternal darkness; into fire and into ice." -_** Canto Three, "Dante's Inferno"

Konrad rolled out into the hallway, closing the door behind him, his mood foul.

Wheeling himself through the mansion halls, observing the various paintings that he passed by, he cast his eyes around, listening intently. His ear twitched as he passed a corridor; Spinal was still struggling to get out from his bindings upstairs to wreck some havoc.

He frowned. He should remind either Jurgen or Dieter to get some soundproofing equipment or walls constructed up in the attic. The little bastard was making a lot of noise and if left unattended it could spell problems.

Konrad wondered if the servants had heard the commotion.

 _'Speaking of which, where is everyone?'_ he wondered.

The building seemed oddly empty.

Moving down a corridor lined with the ivory busts of his ancestors on either side, Konrad glanced upon each member of the Sabrewulf household. On his left was Wilhelm Von Sabrewulf, the first of the Konrad's lineage who received the title of Freiherr during the time of the Holy Roman Empire. Outside of his having been so along with the fact that he had participated in a war, quite possibly the Thirty Years' War, little else was known about him. In fact, much of the same could be said of the other men whose likenesses were depicted in ivory form. Jurgen and his father Max tried to make it a point for Konrad to recognize the achievements and greatness of these men, along with some of their faults, but the only thing Konrad felt toward them was bitterness.

Shifting his attention away from the busts, he ignored their staring eyes as he passed them by.

* * *

Once Konrad had gotten downstairs, he looked around suspiciously.

Nobody seemed to be around.

What the hell was going on?

"Hello?" he called.

He waited for a response.

"Hello?" he repeated.

Jurgen appeared from around the corner with a tray in hand.

"Ah, just in time, Herr Baron," he said. "I have your dinner prepared and was just about to put it onto the dining room table. Just give me a moment, sir. I'll be right with you."

Konrad waited as the man disappeared briefly, then reappeared to guide him in.

"Where is everyone?" Konrad asked.

"I gave the servants a day off," Jurgen said as he wheeled the aristocrat through a set of doors leading to the dining room. "I also cancelled your appointments with Dr. Gupte and Mr. Zhou so that you would get the chance to heal from your injuries."

Konrad winced as he recalled their last interaction. He felt ashamed of his behavior. He very nearly hurt the servant, the one person he counted and depended upon for years. While it was true that Dieter was a loyal friend, Jurgen was more than that; he was family. A brother. One who had seen Konrad at his worst, something that would have driven many away. And yet, despite everything, he continued to serve by his side with unparalleled patience and dedication.

"Thank you, Jurgen," he said as he wheeled to the table.

The servant bowed.

"I'm sorry," Konrad said quietly. "For my outburst, and for flinging part of the armrest at you."

The servant patted him on the shoulder.

"All forgiven, mein freund," Jurgen said. "Keine Ursache."

He then stared at the wheelchair, studying the broken section where the armrest used to be.

"I'll have to call someone to get a replacement for you later," he said. Grabbing the cloche, he lifted it up. "In the mean time, I want you to enjoy your dinner. It's been a trying time for everyone involved, so I made you something special."

Konrad's glanced down hungrily to the plate in front of him.

"Rouladan!" he said excitedly. "What about my diet?"

Jurgen shrugged as he poured a bottle of red wine into a glass.

"Well, I thought you deserve a day off," he replied.

Pulling his hood and scarf off, along with the sunglasses, Konrad took a forkful and closed his eyes in bliss at the taste.

"Delicious," he said.

Jurgen chuckled.

"You treat it as if you hadn't had it for years," he said.

"When you've eaten nothing but fish for a month, it's a welcome change," Konrad said as he kept eating.

He glanced around curiously.

"Are the guards still in place?"

"They are."

Konrad paused, then put down his fork.

"Lawrence resigned," he said as he picked up his glass.

"He did?" Jurgen said in surprise.

"Ja," Konrad said as he finished drinking. "Last night shook him up. He wants to become ordained."

"Ordained? As in the cloth?"

"Ja."

Jurgen shook his head.

"That is a surprise." he said. "How did your meeting with Mr. Kellog go?"

Konrad frowned.

"It went well, surprisingly," he said. "Apparently everyone loved the program and the direction that it's going."

The servant stared at him, taken aback.

"They thought it was all part of the show as well?"

"They had."

"But what about Eagle?"

The aristocrat shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

"I...I told them that he went on vacation."

"Herr Baron!"

"Well what did you expect me to do?!" Konrad demanded. "What, just say "Oh by the way, David, everything you saw last night was real and now the boy is gravely injured in my home!?" Ja, I'm sure that would have gone well with the Board!"

"But Herr Baron, he has family!" Jurgen said. "They have a right to know about his condition and what happened!"

"And you don't think that this won't lead to a potential lawsuit?"

Jurgen opened his mouth to say something, then stopped.

"Thought so," Konrad said. "Now the Board are eager to not only renew the copyright but they also want to make it even more of a monster mash to reach a broader audience and for potential merchandising."

"They want _more_ monsters?!" Jurgen exclaimed. "I hope you had turned them down."

The aristocrat sat quietly still.

"Herr Baron," Jurgen said, "please tell me that you've decided against it."

Konrad sighed.

"I told them that I would think it over," he said.

Jurgen gave him a disapproving look.

"Please don't look at me like that," Konrad said.

"Herr Baron, after what happened last night I would have expected you to shut it down."

"But this will be different!"

"How?" Jurgen demanded.

"Jurgen," Konrad said slowly, "I'm not letting that thing anywhere near my tournament, so please, don't worry. It's not going to be a repeat of last night. I'll just have someone do up some rubber suits like those old Japanese monster movies, or at the very least find someone that does special effects makeup."

"With all due respect, Herr Baron, you don't know a thing about running a production involving special effects," Jurgen said. "For god's sake, man, do you have any idea how much either costs, let alone the amount of manpower needed to operate some of the animatronics for these suits or the equipment needed for moving and maintaining these things?"

"Jurgen, please. I'm sure I can find a special effects company somewhere."

"In Germany?" Jurgen said doubtfully.

"Well, there's always Britain's Pinewood Studios," Konrad countered. "Or Hollywood. I'd imagine there must be some cheap special effects studio out there with a reasonable quote. I could always search the Internet and find someone."

"You cannot be serious."

"I am. Have you ever heard of...what's the word they use..." he muttered. "Cosplay? Yes, that's it! Cosplay."

The servant frowned.

"I'm not familiar with that."

"Basically, people dress up as some sort of character or creature from a comic book, video game or television show. Some of the work done is quite remarkable."

Konrad pulled out his cellphone and typed the word into the search engine, then handed it to the servant.

"See?"

Jurgen studied the images on the phone.

"Some of them look good," he admitted. "How did you hear about this?"

"Dieter," Konrad said simply.

"Ah," the servant said in understanding as he handed the phone back.

"If that doesn't work out, the very worst I can do is have someone pick up stuff from a cheap Halloween store and just make my own creatures from whatever costume or latex appliance available," Konrad said. "There is one slight problem with that, though."

"And what's that?" Jurgen asked.

"If the result is of questionable quality, it'll make my presence particularly noticeable," Konrad replied.

The servant looked at him in confusion.

"Why? How could it possibly-"

He stopped midsentence in realization.

"You are expecting to go onto the program like _that_?!" he exclaimed.

"Of course," Konrad replied.

"No, Herr Baron," Jurgen said in finality. "Absolutely not."

"Oh come on. It'll be fun!"

"No, no, NO!"

"Jurgen, please," Konrad pled. "I need this. It will give me something to do, otherwise, I'll go crazy."

The servant stared at him, then gave an exhausted sigh, relenting.

"Fine."

Konrad nodded, then resumed eating.

"I don't approve of this, Herr Konrad," he said. "It is an awful idea."

"It is," Konrad admitted as he took a forkful, "but it's the only and necessary one."

* * *

Once Konrad finished his supper, he put his hood, sunglasses and scarf back on, then wheeled his way into the hallway while Jurgen washed the dishes.

"Hey dog man!" an unpleasantly familiar voice called.

Giving an annoyed growl, he looked to his left and saw Ferris escorted by Dieter.

"What the hell is he still doing here?!" Konrad demanded quietly.

"It's hard to navigate around with him when servants are wandering about the place," Dieter said.

"And the guards outside."

"Won't be a problem," Dieter replied.

"Hey Fido," Ferris spoke up, "what's your story? You one of Ultratech's experiments or something?"

Dieter and Konrad were quiet for a moment.

"Part man, part dog," Ferris said thoughtfully. "Does that mean you're your own best friend?"

"Shut up, Ben," Dieter said.

Konrad's gloved hand tightened into a fist as that distinctive sneer made its way up his face.

"Know any tricks, boy?" he taunted.

"Ben, shut the fuck up!"

"Fetch? Roll over?" Ben continued. "I know! Play dead!"

As the mercenary mockingly laughed, Konrad snapped, lunging up from his wheelchair, grabbing the man by his hair and wrenching him violently from Dieter, pushing the bodyguard away as he towed Ferris down a flight of steps to the basement. Behind him, Dieter called out and was trying to catch up.

"Hey, hey!" Ferris said. "Where are you taking me?!

Konrad didn't answer as he descended the flight of stairs.

"Where the fuck are you taking me, man?!" the mercenary said as he struggled in his grip, trying to get away.

"You'll see, Mr. Ferris."

* * *

In the deepest part of the basement within Konrad's castle, one flight of stairs beneath the section where Gupte's lab and the dungeon was, a pair of massive automated security doors loomed ominously. On the wall next to the doors was a speaker with a button along with an electronic numeric pad. Shoving Ferris forward, Konrad slammed the mercenary's head into the wall. The man groaned dazedly as he slid down to the floor.

"Baron!"

Konrad didn't bother looking up as Dieter came up to him.

"Baron, what the hell are you playing at?!" the bodyguard demanded.

Konrad didn't answer as he typed in the numeric code.

"Don't you ignore me!"

"Enough is enough, Dieter," Konrad said as he then spoke into the receiver. "Baron Von Sabrewulf. DI-CXXX11."

Once vocal recognition was established, he pulled down his sunglasses as his retinas were scanned.

"What do you mean by that?!" Dieter demanded.

"It means I've had enough! I'm not going to be laughed at, not in my house! Not anymore!"

"And what do you hope to do with Ben?! Why have you brought him here?!"

Konrad didn't answer.

"Answer me!"

"Error - retinal scans do not match," an automated voice said from the speaker.

Konrad growled.

"Override code 4227833," he said.

"Override accepted," the automated voice said.

"Baron, please! Tell me!"

A slot opened. Pulling off his glove, he pressed his thumb onto the pad.

"Identity confirmed," the automated voice said from the speaker. "Welcome, Mr. Chairman."

"On your feet!" he aristocrat snarled as he picked Ferris up.

Dieter grabbed his wrist.

"Tell me what the fuck you are doing. Right. Now." the bodyguard demanded.

"I have a little job for Mr. Ferris," he said as he shoved the mercenary forward into a tight rectangular room that was ten feet long, ten feet high and twelve feet wide.

"Baron, for god's sake, just wait! Let me just get your wheelchair," Dieter said.

"No Dieter," Konrad stated with certainty, "today's the day that I'm finally rid of that cursed chair! In a few moments, all my problems will be gone!"

Stepping into the room with Dieter, Konrad watched as Ferris nervously glanced around and at the large door at the end.

"What the fuck is this place?" Ferris demanded.

He jumped as the doors behind them sealed shut, practically leaping out from his skin as a thick cloud of vapor suddenly hissed loudly into the room from a series of vents that lined the walls and ceiling.

"What the fuck is going on?!" he said in alarm.

"Calm down, Mr. Ferris," Konrad said as Dieter grabbed hold of the mercenary's arm. "We're just being decontaminated."

A few seconds later, the vents stopped and the door opened. Inside was a massive room with various lab equipment, personnel and computer terminals surrounding a walk-in freezer at the center, a sturdy eight by twenty-four foot steel box with glass sides. Through the glass, Konrad saw a puddle on the floor of the freezer.

Taking notice of the three men as they entered the room, the staff turned in their direction. One man, a bald, cheerful, chubby cherubic-looking fellow with glasses and rosy cheeks approached.

"Baron Von Sabrewulf!" he said excitedly. "It's so good to see you, sir!"

"Good to see you as well, Dr. Rogers," he said.

"It's been ages since you've been down here," Rogers said, then took notice of Ferris. "Who's this?"

"Dr. Rogers, meet Ben Ferris," Konrad introduced. "Mr. Ferris is a guest."

The scientist glanced suspiciously at the man.

"Why is he in handcuffs?"

"It's for protection, his and ours," Konrad explained. "Mr. Ferris is a person with a particularly violent disposition."

"Shouldn't you call the police?" Rogers asked nervously.

"Too right, Herr Doctor," the aristocrat replied as he eyed the freezer, "but I have a use for Mr. Ferris."

He folded his arms behind his back.

"So what's so special about this place?" Ferris asked. "What's with the box?"

Konrad grinned beneath his hood and scarf.

"You should feel honored to be here, Mr. Ferris," he said. "This is what started Ultratech down the road to success! Nobody else at the company knows about this except everyone around you."

Ferris gave him a confused look. "I don't get it."

"Several years ago," Konrad began, "I made a series of mistakes. _Costly_ mistakes. I purchased a great number of artifacts and...services, all of which turned out to be useless. I tried my luck at casinos, where I drank to hide from my problems and gambled away in desperation to make a fortune back. I nearly ruined the company in my search of a cure, Mr. Ferris. I searched every corner of the world, and all I found were liars, lunatics and fucking idiots."

He began to walk toward the walk-in freezer.

"One such consultation took place in Nepal," he said, "where some little shitstain of a man tried to con me. Dejected, I strolled alone and just wandered aimlessly along the country."

He stopped just in front of the glass.

"One day, I found something."

Ferris scoffed.

"And this is the big secret?" he said. "A puddle?"

"It is no mere puddle, Mr. Ferris," Konrad replied.

As the mercenary opened his mouth to respond, the puddle rippled, drawing everyone's attention to it.

"What the fuck?" Ferris said.

Konrad watched as the stream slowly enlarged itself, then ducked down suddenly back as a puddle.

"Whoa! Did you see that?!" Ferris said to Dieter. "What is that?"

"Shhh!" Konrad hissed in annoyance, then glanced back to the puddle.

"Oh come now, come now, mein freund," Konrad said gently, as he tapped the glass and used sign language as he spoke. "No need to be shy. Come out. There's someone here to meet you. Show him what you can do."

The aristocrat watched as the puddle expanded itself and molded itself into a variety of shapes. It started off with simple, singular one dimensional shapes on the ground such as a square, a rectangle, a circle and a triangle.

"Very nice," Konrad applauded and signed with his hands. "What else can you do?"

The puddle then divided itself, forming two triangles that circled around each other.

Ferris walked up to the box with his mouth open, his eyes fixed on the show before him while Dieter kept a firm hold on his arm.

"Wha..." he muttered. "Is this some sort of hologram?"

"Nein, nein, it's all real," Konrad said. He turned his attention back to the entity and moved his hands as he spoke. "Now, mein freund, why don't you really let yourself loose!"

The puddle continued dividing itself until whole clusters of shapes swirled and danced along the floor, their forms blending into one another, even through each other. Once it was finished doing simple two dimensional shapes, it moved onto more three dimensional ones such as pyramids, cubes, cones, and spheres. Clusters of pyramids circled around cylinders while prisms formed from spheres. To Konrad, it was almost like watching a symphony in motion. From these three dimensional shapes, more complex shapes and patterns started to emerge, from spiralling helixes to tetrahedrons to icosidodecahedrons to rhombic triacontahedrons to toroidal polyhedrons to small stellated dodecahedrons to great cubicuboctahedrons and other shapes that Konrad's never seen before. The floor of the freezer now looked like a strange landscape or a bizarre multidimensional city complete with towers, growing more and more until from some of the polyhedrons organic and animalistic shapes started to emerge, a lot of which Konrad was certain never existed on Earth. Various pieces, figures and shapes started to move, dance, swim and float around in the air, swirling naturally. It was almost like seeing something underwater. From these figures, shapes and other pieces, it then formed other structures, what looked like a depiction of atoms, molecules and the like before going into more epic, elaborate and ambitious set pieces, including an incredible depiction of what could only be the Big Bang. From there, constellations and solar systems emerged, followed by asteroids, black holes and more. The performance was dizzying in its scope and scale, moving so fast that Konrad couldn't take any more.

"That's enough," he said and signed.

The images faltered, reverting back into tiny droplets that rained down onto the floor.

"That was lovely!" Konrad said and signed to the puddle as it reformed.

"What is this?" Ferris asked. "Is this...what is it...nanotechnology?"

"Nein, nein. Nanotechnology is nowhere near this complex," Konrad said. He then gestured to the entity in the room. "Show him."

The puddle slowly rose and molded itself into a tall humanoid shape that solidified before everyone. Standing at six-four with a heavily muscled body, the entity's torso and head were composed entirely of fresh snow that sparkled and glinted in the light of the freezer, the arms and legs composed of a mixture of rock and ice. White in color, the hands were huge and had a strange rubbery quality about them, with three digits and an opposable thumb on both, while the feet, though very humanoid in shape and structure, had only three toes on each foot. Devoid of either a mouth or nose, a pair of striking emerald eyes stared out from a featureless, jagged, cliff-face-like mound, while a collection of stalactite-like icicles formed a sort of beard at the bottom of its chin.

Ferris stared agape at the creature as it stared back, the entity whistling a high pitched noise before making a strange full-chested purring sound.

"What. The. Fuck. Is. That?" he said slowly.

"Homo Glacius," Dieter said.

Konrad winced as he heard the word uttered from the bodyguard's mouth.

" _Homo Glacies_ ," he corrected. "Latin for "ice man"."

"So what is it?" Ferris asked. "Is it one of your experiments or something?"

"Don't be ridiculous," Konrad said.

"Then how did you get it?"

"I told you, Mr. Ferris," he said patiently, "I found him in Nepal, near a Hindu shrine in the snow-covered mountains after he crash-landed."

" _Crash-landed?!"_ Ferris repeated. "Wait a minute, are you saying that-"

"Yes, Mr. Ferris," Konrad said.

The mercenary stared at both the creature and Konrad in shock and disbelief.

"Where's his ship?" he asked.

"It's in a warehouse," Dr. Rogers said, "but it's not really a "ship" per se. If anything it's more of an elaborate...techno-organic shell to maneuver itself in space."

"Why did it crash?" Ferris asked. "Was it shot down?"

Konrad amusedly watched as the tough mercenary seemed to revert into an enthusiastic teenager.

 _'Like watching someone that just found out that Santa Claus is real,'_ he thought.

"No," he answered. "There were no signs of such. A working hypothesis that everyone seems to favor at the moment is that the creature came too close to our planet before eventually being pulled down by its gravity."

"But...how is it that no one knows about this?" Ferris asked.

"People had," Konrad said, "but with a little compensation, a few favors and some strings pulled here and there, it's amazing how easy it is to get people to keep quiet and cooperative with the right tools, resources and motivation. Since then Nepal has considered me its friend and benefactor."

"How is it able to do all of that?"

Konrad shrugged.

"We're still struggling to understand it ourselves," he admitted. "Some of us believe that the ice is in actuality some sort of "suit", but others believe that the creature is some sort of hive or conglomerate of microorganisms that sustain themselves with cold temperatures and water. Some believe that it's merely composed of a brain that telekinetically controls the elements around it. The truth is, no one knows."

"But can't you tell from its DNA?"

Konrad scoffed.

"We've been trying for years, but the creature's genome is unlike anything on this planet, with structures and elements never seen before. We've barely decoded even a fraction of its DNA. For all intents and purposes, _Homo Glacies_ is one of the most evolved creatures on the planet, if not _the_ most evolved. Possibly even in the universe."

"Are there others like it?"

The aristocrat was quiet for a moment.

"Possibly," he replied.

"You haven't heard from them?"

Konrad shook his head.

"I'm afraid not," he said. "Even if they tried to, communication would have been impossible."

"But I saw you talk with that thing using sign language," Ferris said.

"Yes, but it doesn't have the physiological apparatus necessary for human communication," Konrad said.

The creature blinked as it watched them, whistling and humming.

"Those sounds you hear? Those are the extent to any sort of vocal communication. We tried using audio equipment to decode them and communicate with it, but our equipment isn't even powerful enough. Several of my best have tried deciphering it, but it's impossible. So, we had to teach it sign language, something that took us years to do, but even then, we still have problems communicating with it. Apparently the semantics of his language can have a multitude of meanings that not even human beings could understand."

Konrad watched as Homo Glacies tilted its head, blinking curiously at him.

"It sounds like your discovery of the big fella was a bust," Ferris said.

"On the contrary, Mr. Ferris," Konrad said. "While we haven't been able to learn much from Homo Glacies, we have had learned a great deal from its shell. You see it all around you. Were it not for him, we wouldn't have made such advances in technology."

He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"In a sense, he is one of the fathers of Ultratech," he said.

"Alright," Ferris said. "Now the million dollar question - where do I fit into this?"

Konrad smiled.

"I'm glad you asked, Mr. Ferris," he said. "I have a job for you."

The mercenary looked at him interestedly.

"Really?" he said. "What kind of job?"

Konrad was quiet for a moment.

"Dr. Rogers, would you kindly send some staff upstairs and get a gurney down here?"

"A gurney?" Rogers said confusedly. "But-"

"Now," Konrad commanded, his tone cold.

Rogers faltered, then nodded at some personnel.

Ferris nervously shifted.

"So, uh, you didn't tell me what the job was," he said. "Are you gonna say anything?"

Konrad stared quietly at the creature in walk-in freezer.

"How about gettin' these cuffs off?"

"The cuffs are fine where they are."

After a few nervous minutes of waiting, the staff came back with a gurney, wheeling it close to the freezer.

Ferris eyed it anxiously, his skin pale and covered in sweat.

"Look, um..." he said. "If-if you let me go, I swear I'll tell no one about you, about any of this!"

Konrad stepped to the gurney.

"Put it over there against the wall," he instructed, pointing to his right at a vacant space.

"Is this about what I said?"

Konrad looked over at him pointedly.

Ferris gave him a nervous smile.

"Stupid question," he said. "Of course it is. Listen, I-I was just fucking around. Really, that's all. My own momma and even Dieter know what a jokester I can be!"

He chuckled.

The aristocrat didn't laugh.

Ferris swallowed.

"Listen," he said. "I've never said anything like this in my entire life, but..."

He paused.

"I will pay you your money back," he said. "Just let me go. Let me go, and I'll just walk away. You'll never see me again."

Konrad looked to Rogers.

"Can you get a syringe, please?"

Rogers frowned.

"Baron-"

"NOW!"

The outburst caused the man quickly search a cabinet.

"Dude, I will pay you whatever you want!" Ferris cried out in alarm. "Whatever your price is, just name it, okay?!"

Konrad whirled around to face him.

"Really?" he said.

"I'll do whatever you want, man! Anything!" Ferris exclaimed. "Just don't kill me!"

"I'm not going to kill you, Mr. Ferris," he said. "I'm going to do something nice for you. Even though you don't deserve it."

This made the mercenary relax slightly.

"You are?" he said uncertainly.

"Absolutely," the aristocrat replied.

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Mr. Ferris," Konrad said straightly, "I'll come to the point - I loathe you. I cannot think of many that I absolutely despise, but given our brief interaction, I can honestly say that you make my list of most hated people."

The mercenary smirked.

"What can I say?" he said. "I make an impression."

"And my impression of you is that you're a worthless piece of shit whose existence involves nothing but inflicting misery onto others," Konrad snarled. "You're nothing but a parasite, Mr. Ferris, one who gratifies himself by profiting off of the sufferings of those around you."

He looked to some of the researchers.

"Strap him to the gurney!" he ordered.

Konrad watched as the mercenary struggled in their grip as he was guided to to said-gurney.

"You said that you'll do anything for me, Mr. Ferris?" he queried rhetorically as he was strapped in. "Since you're in such a charitable mood, perhaps the only time in your life you've ever shown such altruism, I'm going to take you up on your offer. You are going to help me overcome my condition by participating in "Project Cinder"."

"Baron, stop this now!" Dieter said.

"No, Dieter," Konrad said.

"Baron, you're not thinking straight."

"Oh, but I am, Dieter!" Konrad said. "Somewhere in _Homo Glacies'_ genetic code is the cure to my ailment. I'll finally be normal again!"

"Baron, I highly disapprove of this!" Rogers said.

"I don't give a damn what you think!" Konrad snarled. "Get a sample from the creature."  
"Baron, for god's sakes, stop and think about what you are doing!" Rogers pled. "Project Cinder isn't ready! We don't have the equipment necessary, including recording equipment."

"We don't need recording equipment," Konrad retorted. "Everything we need is right here."

"Baron, we don't have approvals to do testing of any sort! We haven't even done animal testing, man!"

"You want approval, you got it!" Konrad said. "Now get the goddamn sample!"

The doctor frowned as he walked away. Dieter stared angrily at the aristocrat.

"Baron-"

"I don't want to hear it, Dieter."

"There's no guarantee it will work," he said.

"Of course it does!" Konrad exclaimed. "You saw what the creature can do! Just imagine, Dieter! I can take on any form I want! I can finally be free from this damn place and walk the streets again a man and reclaim my life!"

"And what if it doesn't?" Dieter countered. "What if you end up killing him?"

"Then he'll have served his purpose and the world will be a better place," Konrad said.

The bodyguard glared at him as Rogers approached the struggling mercenary.

"You're not stickin' me! You're not stickin' me!" Ferris yelled.

The straps for his feet came loose, allowing him to lash out, kicking a researcher in the eye.

"CAN SOMEONE GET HIM UNDER CONTROL AND SHUT HIM UP PLEASE?!" Konrad yelled as other personnel grabbed Ferris' thrashing legs and tied them down.

"HELP ME! HELP ME!" Ferris screamed. "SOMEBODY! ANYBODY! HELP ME! HELP ME PLEASE!"

"FOR THE LAST TIME, BARON, STOP THIS IMMEDIATELY!" Dieter yelled.

Standing close to Ferris, Rogers glanced down apologetically to him as the other researchers held him down.

"Do it," Konrad ordered.

Leaning forward, Rogers inserted the hypodermic needle into Ferris' neck and injected its contents into him, causing the man to cry out. Once he finished, he withdrew the needle and stepped back along with the others.

Ferris lay there, trembling on the gurney.

"You bastards," he said.

"How long should it take effect?" Konrad asked.

Rogers shook his head.

"It's hard to tell," he replied. "It could be minutes, maybe hours. Possibly even days. That's assuming it takes effect. If it doesn't it could either just float harmlessly through his system, or-"

"I feel hot," Ferris said. "I feel like I'm burning up! Oh god!"

Arching his back, he started to scream and writhe in agony as steam started to rise up from his body, his skin darkening as a secondary liquid "skin" started to form over him before bursting into flame.

"GET THE FIRE EXTINGUISHERS!" Dieter yelled.

Researchers frantically ran in every direction in search of one as the flame continued to consume Ferris' body, burning off his clothes, shoes, face and hair, along with the straps of the gurney. Konrad was sickened as he saw the man's features dissolve away before him, so much so that he had to turn away.

"Oh no you don't," the bodyguard said as he grabbed him by the chin and forced him to watch. "LOOK AT WHAT YOU'VE DONE, BARON! LOOK!"

Ferris' once handsome face had now become a hideous jack-o'-lantern, his screams taking on an increasingly strange and horrible quality, like someone trying to speak underwater.

"WHERE'S THE GODDAMN FIRE EXTINGUISHERS?!" Dieter yelled. "THE HELL'S TAKING SO LONG?! CAN'T ANYONE FUCKIN' SEE HE NEEDS HELP?!"

Finally, after a few minutes of struggling and screaming, he stopped.

Looking in his direction, Dieter shook his head as he let go of the Baron.

"Was this worth losing your soul over?" he asked before he turned away, running his hands worriedly over his mouth and chin.

A researcher ran up and was about to use the extinguisher when there came a groan from the gurney, something that caused everyone to pause and Dieter to whip around.

Konrad thought that Ferris had finally been put out of his misery, that the horror had mercifully ended. When the mercenary slowly started to rise up from the gurney and stood up onto his feet, Konrad's hairs stood on end. Ferris' entire body was now completely covered in flame with a red aureola surrounding him, his head and face an orange featureless mass with a pair of red orbs that glowed like hot coals. The floor hissed as his featureless feet burned into the tiles, his breathing a harsh heaving that sounded like a furnace while embers shimmered and flaked off from his perpetually burning body, crackling and popping noisily. As he straightened himself up, he studied his hands, arms and the rest of his body.

 **"Is there a mirror around here?"** Ferris asked, his voice a simmering volcanic hiss.

Rogers swallowed, shaking his head.

"I'm-I'm afraid not," he replied.

Ferris took a step towards them, causing everyone to back away and put considerable distance between themselves and the fiery effigy as it made its way over to the walk-in freezer and stopped directly in front of the glass, pausing as it stared into the glass. Homo Glacies purred and hummed curiously at the apparition as it ran a hand over his own fiery visage.

 **"What...the..."** he said.

Konrad nervously edged to the door.

Ferris turned in his direction, his coal-like eyes narrowing and burning with hate.

 **"YOU!"** the mercenary said with a molten snarl as he pointed at him. **"You did this to me!"**

"Ben, calm down," Dieter said soothingly.

 **"Oh I'll calm down,"** Ferris said, his hands tightening into fists. **"Right after I beat your boss to death!"**

He took several steps toward Konrad, ready to swing.

"If you kill him, Ben, you'll lose any chance of a cure," the bodyguard said, causing the flaming creature to halt in its tracks.

 **"You have a cure for this?"** he asked.

"We'll find one," Dieter promised. "The Baron will make sure that one is found for you."

 **"Oh, I'm sure he will,"** Ferris said acidly as he cracked his neck and his knuckles.

Everyone save for Dieter and the Baron edged to the door, several of them carrying boxes of files, papers and memory keys. Rogers opened the walk-in freezer and pulled out a plastic bottle, gesturing for Homo Glacies to get in. Complying, the creature transformed into a puddle and slid in. Sealing up the cap, Rogers hurriedly followed the other researchers to the door.

"Mr. Ferris, I assure you," Konrad spoke, "every effort will be made to restore you back to normal."

 **"Right,"** Ferris said, unconvinced, then tilted his head in mock forgetfulness. **"What was it that you had said about me again?"**

He narrowed his eyes.

 **"Oh yeah,"** he smouldered. **"You said that I was a worthless piece of shit. How could I forget a thing like that?"**

"Mr. Ferris-"

 **"Time for talk's over, Lassie,"** Ferris said as he threateningly stepped toward him. **"This is the part where the screaming begins."**

"Okay, Ben, you win." Dieter said, drawing the creature's attention. "Here's the cure."

Ferris stared at Dieter as the bodyguard raised up in one hand a hypodermic needle.

 **"You're lying,"** he said.

"I'm not," Dieter said. "Am I, Doc?"

"N-No," the cherubic man shakily replied.

 **"Give it to me,"** Ferris demanded.

"Not before you let the Baron go."

 **"I SAID GIVE IT TO ME!"**

"Yeah?" Dieter taunted. "Come and get it, butt-fucker."

Ferris stormed angrily toward Dieter as the bodyguard back-tracked, waving the hypodermic needle around.

"RUN, BARON! RUN!"

Konrad bolted to the doorway as it opened, pushing in amongst the other researchers.

Once Ferris was three feet away, Dieter placed the hypodermic needle onto the floor and rolled it as far away from him as possible, then waited as the mercenary rushed past. Once he was a safe distance away from him, the bodyguard practically flew towards the decontamination chamber.

He was halfway there when Ferris gave a frightening rage-filled roar.

 **"DIETER!"**

"SHUT THE DOOR!" Dieter yelled. "SHUT THE GODDAMN DOOR!"

Rogers tapped the console, the door slowly lowering overhead.

"We can't let that thing get to the decontamination chamber!" Rogers said. "If it does, its flames could mix with the Chlorine Dioxide and cause the whole place to explode!"

Konrad looked worriedly at him, then at the approaching entity.

"You!" he said to the researcher still holding the fire extinguisher. "Give that to me."

Nodding dumbly, the researcher held it out.

Grabbing it from him, Konrad grunted as he carried it in his arms, the nozzle ready in his hand.

Ducking down, Dieter slid into the decontamination chamber as Ferris followed angrily after him, barely six feet away as Konrad sprayed it with sodium bicarbonate. To his surprise, the mercenary staggered back with a loud scream as the aristocrat continued spraying him until the door closed.

Once it was sealed, gas poured into the room, then opened up at the other side.

"Will the doors hold him?" Konrad asked.

"It should," Rogers said. "They're shock and heatproof."

There came a loud bang from the door in front of them, causing everyone to recoil as Ferris angrily pounded away.

 **"BASTARDS!"** he yelled. **"LET ME OUT!"**

"There's no way he can get out, can he?" Dieter asked worriedly.

"No," Rogers assured. "He should be sealed up in there. The door's the only way in or out."

"Good," Konrad replied.

"I'm afraid not, Baron," the scientist said gravely. "We still need to contain this. I'm also worried that it might be radioactive."

The aristocrat looked over at him, startled.

"Radioactive?" he repeated. "But how? Homo Glacies itself isn't radioactive, nor did we find any signs of radiation in its body."

"It isn't, but it's possible that perhaps the introduction of its genes into a human body may have triggered something, perhaps an isotope that may have been overlooked! Or maybe the introduction of these foreign genes have led to a mutation that resulted in their formation in the host body!"

"SCHEISSE!" Konrad yelled as he pounded a wall. "So we have to kill it."

"That's out of the question, Baron," Rogers said. "If it does harbor radioactive material in its body, killing it could cause that material to spill."

The aristocrat inhaled, then sighed as Ferris continued to pound into the door.

"What do you propose I do?"

"First, we need to get a reading from a Geiger counter," Rogers said. "If there's any sign of radiation, we'll need to evacuate the entire area, any nearby towns or villages, get a HAZMAT cleanup crew immediately down here and make sure everyone here is given iodine tablets."

Konrad fists tightened. He was certain that he was drawing blood. If not, it was a miracle.

"We're also going to need to study him properly," Rogers continued. "Even if he doesn't emit radiation, he's a walking hazard. We don't know how long he'll be alive for in there, nor do we know what will happen if he passes on."

"What's the worst case scenario in the event that he does?" Konrad asked.

"A - he has a meltdown and contaminates all of Ravensburg and Germany, if not the entire continent as nuclear material is spread through the atmosphere, causing massive radiation poisoning. B - he goes supernova and takes out the entire planet. This is all hypothetical, though."

Dieter paled.

"There should be a Geiger counter upstairs," Rogers said. "I'll go get it."

Konrad watched as the fat cherub went to the side panel near the entrance and typed something before disappearing upstairs, the rouladan nervously shifting around uncomfortably in his stomach.

* * *

When Rogers came back, Konrad waited with bated breath as he raised up the Geiger counter. After a few, painfully long minutes had passed, the scientist shook his head.

"No signs of radiation," he said.

A collective sigh of relief flooded into the room.

"Thank god," Dieter said.

"Don't thank him just yet, Dieter," Konrad said. "We still need to deal with the flaming elephant in the room."

"We need to study him," Rogers said. "Just because I haven't detected anything now doesn't mean that he won't become radioactive or that they're not present."

"Which also brings back to us somehow containing him," Konrad said. "Do you have any recommendations?"

"Perhaps a dry cask storage?"

Konrad frowned.

"Nein, that won't do."

"We need something, Baron."

"I know that, but given the media presence at the front gate, I'm pretty sure the sight of a dry cask storage is going to raise a few eye brows."

"You don't have to bring it here, Baron," Rogers said. "We could just transport Mr. Ferris to a nuclear power plant somewhere and have him sealed."

The aristocrat scoffed.

"Just seal him in a plant somewhere," he said skeptically. "Before we get too carried away, let's examine the facts. The man's on fire."

"Uh, do you mind if I ask you fellas something?" Dieter queried.

"Go ahead."

"I'm no expert in science, but why not just seal him in that freezer? From his reaction to being sprayed by the Baron the cold affects him," Dieter pointed out.

Konrad looked to Rogers.

"Could that work?" he asked.

"In theory it could," Rogers said, "but we'll need to considerably reduce his temperature. But that's in theory. I don't know if the glass windows would be able to handle the heat, plus there's always the possibility that his system might build up a tolerance to it and double his body temperature."

The aristocrat frowned.

"One worry at a time, Herr Doctor," he said. "We'll cross that bridge when we get there, but for now let's focus on the situation at hand. Dieter, there should be some extra fire extinguishers upstairs along with some HAZMAT suits. They're fully insulated and fire-resistant. Take several of these people with you and get them. Move!"

"Yes sir," the bodyguard said.

* * *

Dieter grumbled as he finished putting on the headpiece, then turned around to face the four others that were similarly dressed.

"Christ I feel like a dork in this thing," he muttered as he studied the aluminized HAZMAT suit that he wore.

"It will keep you safe," Rogers assured as he finished making certain the suit was properly sealed.

"You better not be taking pictures of this, Baron," Dieter warned.

"I'm not."

"Good."

Picking up a fire extinguisher that was resting on the ground along with the other personnel, Dieter turned to face the door while everyone else including Rogers and the Baron backed out.

"Good luck, Dieter," Konrad said.

Giving a nod, he gestured to one of the researchers to tap into the console, then watched as the light slowly disappeared behind him as the doors sealed shut.

Dieter never had considered himself claustrophobic, but being inside the HAZMAT suit made him acutely aware of how oppressive and unnerving it can be. For one, the sound of his own breathing seemed to be amplified in his ears; despite the fact that he was breathing normally, to him it sounded deafening. Breathing in the suit felt like he was breathing through a very small and tight vent. Even more, the way the suit clung tightly around him made it feel as if it was some bizarre Medieval torture device that was designed to suffocate him.

'Think pleasant thoughts,' he thought to himself. Puppies. Kittens. Puppies and kittens. The Baron dressed in that stupid Indian headdress.

Cracking a smile beneath his mask, he waited as gas poured in from the vents. On the other side of the door in front of him, Ben pounded and cussed furiously at him and the Baron in several different ways, a lot of it impressive even by Dieter's standards.

"Foul mouth he has," a researcher commented nervously.

"Yep," Dieter replied.

He glanced to the others.

"Okay fellas, get ready," he said as he held the fire extinguishers handle and nozzle in preparation. "The moment that door opens, blast him altogether."

After the decontamination finished, the vents stopped. Once the air cleared, the door opened, revealing Ben in all of his flaming glory.

"Hello, Ben," Dieter greeted.

The mercenary snarled as he lunged.

"NOW!" Dieter yelled as five extinguishers went off, causing Ben to scream and stagger back.

The bodyguard continued dousing the mercenary until the fiery "skin" faded away, revealing a blistering, shriveled up red and pink body with a bald head and a disgusting jack-o'-lantern face.

"Keep spraying!"

Ben raised his arms up defensively as the group continued their assault, screaming each time the cold touched his bare skin, backing away toward the freezer.

"You, get the freezer open!" Dieter said to a researcher to his left while he sprayed.

The bodyguard watched as the man nodded and headed over.

"Okay, fellas, let's get him inside."

The HAZMAT suit-clad men formed a circle around Ben, spraying him at intervals as they directed him to the freezer.

Spraying one long final burst sent the scalded mercenary directly into it.

Sealing it closed behind him, Dieter then directed the men to the burning gurney, along with the various places where Ben had stepped.

One of the researchers, a man named Patterson, took a reading with the Geiger counter.

"It's all clear."

"Are you sure?" Dieter asked.

"Yeah."

"Thank fucking god," the bodyguard muttered as he took off the hood and mask, along with the rest of the suit, leaving it as a pile on the floor. Reaching into his pocket, he dialed the number for the Baron's cellphone.

"Yeah, it's clear," he said before hanging up.

Inside the freezer, Ben watched him, trembling and shivering furiously. Dieter ignored him as he went to the door leading to the decontamination chamber.

After a few minutes, the decontamination chamber opened.

"Ah, Dieter!" Konrad said, patting him on the shoulder. "Well done. Thank you, mein freund."

There came a slow, halting clap from behind the bodyguard.

Turning around, Dieter saw Ben clapping, staring at him.

"Yeah, bravo, Dieter," he said sarcastically. "Fuckin' bravo! You've successfully caught me. THAT'S quite a thing to pull off! Not even Interpol was able to do that! And now you have a new monster to complete the set."

Konrad sighed.

"Mr. Ferris," he said. "Believe me when I say that I'm sorry."

The burned man chuckled darkly.

"You're sorry?!" he said. "That's it?"

"No," Konrad said. "Listen, I know how you feel."

Ben scoffed.

"How-how I _feel_?" he said incredulously.

"We're both afflicted with something we don't understand," Konrad said. "Neither of us asked to be what we are now...and both of us are looking for a way out. A cure."

"YOU MADE ME THIS WAY!" Ben roared as he pounded against the glass, each word punctuated by it. "YOU. MADE. ME. THIS. WAY!"

He stared angrily at the Baron.

"You want to know what I _feel_? Pain. Constant, agonizing pain. All over my body. Every pore, every nerve, every time I breathe. Every time I move. No matter what position I'm in, it's all the same!"

"Is it better when you..."flame on", Ben?" Dieter asked.

Ferris glared at him.

"No," he answered acerbically. "Not at all. When that happens, I can't feel anything."

Konrad flinched.

"I'm sorry for what has happened to you," he said. "I never thought that any of this would happen, believe me."

The burnt figure glared through the window.

"Well," he said, "the damage has already been done."

"Mr. Ferris, I promise you, I will do everything possible to make sure that a cure will be found for you."

"And how long will that take?" the mercenary demanded.

"I..." the aristocrat faltered. "I don't know."

"If it's going to take years, don't bother."

"Mr. Ferris, there's a lot that we don't know about your condition," Konrad said. "We don't know how long you'd be able to live for in that state."

"I don't care," Ferris said. "I'd rather die."

"Mr. Ferris-"

To the Baron's surprise and horror, the man started to weep.

"Please," he begged. "Just let me die already."

"I can't," Konrad said sadly. "You...you can't afford to die."

"Why?"

"Because-" Konrad paused. "We don't know what will happen if you die."

The burnt man stared despondently to the floor.

"Mr. Ferris, I'm sorry. God, I am so sorry!"

"Ben, buddy," Dieter spoke. "Just hang in there. I promise you, everything will be alright. We'll do everything we can to make you comfortable, and I promise you that we'll restore you back to normal."

"You better hope not," the burnt effigy spoke lowly. "If that day comes, I promise _you_ , Dieter, that I will make every waking hour of your life a living misery. I will cut you up into tiny little pieces and mail them across to every corner of the globe. You know what I'm going to do to your boss? I've never been a pet owner before, but I'm starting to fancy the idea more and more. When I get out, I'll make your boss my pet and be the shittiest owner possible! DO YOU HEAR ME, YOU FAT HAIRY BITCH?!"

"Let's get out here, Dieter," Konrad said.

"Don't you walk away from me!" Ferris called. "Dieter? DIETER!"

As Konrad and Dieter headed to the door, Rogers approached.

"What about Homo Glacies?" he asked.

"I'll put in a requisition for an additional freezer," the Baron replied. "In the meantime, store him in the one upstairs."

"Yes sir," the researcher said. "One other thing, Baron."

He then leaned in close and spoke in an angry hushed voice, "Mindful of the fact that you are the CEO of Ultratech and how appreciative I am for this position, what you did was absolutely disgraceful!"

"Herr Doctor-"

"No you listen!" Rogers snapped quietly. "You put my researchers at risk, broke protocol and the law and compromised the integrity of my project. If you EVER do something like this again, I will report you to the Board and to the police. Do you understand?"

"Ja."

"Good."

Departing from them, Rogers hurried back to help his colleagues.

"Come on, Dieter," Konrad said. "I've had enough of this place."

* * *

Stepping into the decontamination chamber, Konrad watched the bodyguard.

"You have something to say, Dieter?"

The bodyguard stared quietly to the door in front of them as the one behind closed.

"You're angry with me," Konrad said.

"Why shouldn't I be?" Dieter said in a hushed tone. "I told you that I had it under control."

Konrad's shoulders sagged as gas poured in.

"I'm sorry, mein freund," he said.

"I don't care!" the bodyguard barked. "All you had to do was just shut up, keep it together and let us pass, but no! Someone else has to share in your misery!"

The aristocrat growled as the air cleared and the door opened.

"If you'd like to quit, go ahead," he said. "The exit's always open."

"I ain't quitting," the bodyguard said. "I just don't want to be around you at the moment."

Upon saying that, Dieter stormed up the stairs. A little while later, Konrad followed, his mind troubled.

Was he beyond saving?


	9. Chapter Eight: Nightmares

**Chapter Eight: Nightmares**

 ** _"What have you designed, O Zeus, to do with me?"_ \- **Oedipus, "Oedipus Rex" by Sophocles

Konrad clattered up the stairs of the attic with a bottle of wine in hand. Spinal watched him from his position as he stood up, swaying slightly.

"Ah, Guttentag, mein freund!" Konrad greeted, raising his bottle before clamoring over to him.

Chuckling, he studied the skeleton.

"You really are an ugly bastard, you know that?" he said drunkenly.

Spinal roared at him, as though insulted by the Baron's words.

"Ah shut up," Konrad said before arching his neck back to take a long drink from the bottle. Pulling it away, he wiped his mouth sloppily.

"It's not you're fault you're ugly," he slurred. "Why, I'm no Prince Charming myself! Plus, there's another one just like us in the basement, but-but you've got to tell nobody. It's a secret."

He then shushed the skeleton before raising his bottle.

"To us ugly bastards!"

Konrad laughed as he took another drink.

"Today I'm celebratin'!" he said. "My show's been green-lit to continue, thanks to you! I owe you a huge thanks."

He leaned forward and kissed the skeleton on the top of its head, then spat.

"Ugh!" he said as he wiped his mouth. "What were you swimming in, shit?! BLECH!"

The aristocrat took another drink to wipe the taste out.

The skeleton struggled violently, shaking the table.

"How long has it been since you were last with a woman?" Konrad asked, causing the skeleton to stop.

He turned to face it.

"Hm?" he grunted. "You know how long it's been for me? Thirty-four years. Girl's name was...Mila Schaeffer. Gorgeous girl. Pale white skin. Short red hair. Wore a blue dress. Lovely girl. She had the manners of a pig and the breath of a goat. She belched loudly. I was always amazed by that, just because you'd never expect something so small and delicate could produce such a sound! It's like if Godzilla had been shrunken down to size and decided to let one rip! But I loved her, in spite of that."

A small smile crept up his features.

"I still remember her kiss," he said wistfully.

Nostalgia turned to melancholy.

"After I found out about my condition," he said, "I had to break it off with her. She wouldn't have been happy, seeing me like this. I still remember how upset she was. How she yelled at me for an explanation. How she cried..."

He took a longer drink.

"I wonder if it's better had it been that I never dated her in the first place. The last I heard about her from Jurgen, she became a teacher, got married and had three kids."

He sighed, then took a quick gulp before turning to his companions.

"How about you?" he asked. "Did you have anyone?"

Neither "guest" responded.

"How long has it been since you felt a woman's touch, hm?" Konrad asked. "Have you _ever_ experienced it, I wonder?"

It might have been the drink getting to him, his imagination, or the dim lighting, but for a moment Konrad thought that he saw a look of longing in Spinal's red eyes as it moved its mandible about.

Smiling, he patted the creature's skull.

"Don't worry, mein freund," he said. "Maybe someday we'll find what we're looking for. Here, have a drink."

Konrad poured the bottle of wine over its mouth, watching as it gurgled and reached out thirstily, trying to taste it.

"There you go," he said. "Trink mein freund! Trink!"

Tilting the bottle back up, he watched as Spinal continued to mouth hungrily for it.

"You'll get your turn. Just wait," he said.

"Aw," Spinal grunted in disappointment.

Moving to the shield, Konrad stared down at the tentacled face as it stared back at him.

"Open wide!" he said as he poured.

The moment the wine made contact with the shield, it produced a shimmering glow. Without warning, Spinal roared as he tore himself free from the ropes.

"WHAT THE-"

He was cut off as the skeleton tackled him to the floor.

"GET OFF ME!" he yelled. "GET OFF ME!"

Spinal laughed maniacally as his bony hands grabbed him by the throat, choking him. Konrad violently struggled to wrench the hands loose, then raised his own hands up to his chest, slammed them down into the crook of its arms and head-butted, causing it to stagger off him. Grabbing the bottle, he continued to bash it into the creature's skull over and over until it stopped. Once it ceased moving, Konrad hastily grabbed its body and carried it piece by piece, then tied it quickly back to the table, making sure that every knot was tight and that it was secure. Satisfied, he glanced back to the bottle, then headed back downstairs.

"No more drinks for you!" Konrad said to the shield as he made his way back.

He cringed as Spinal chuckled behind him. Hurrying out the attic, Konrad's heart raced as the laugh built its way up into an awful crescendo that echoed into the night, following him all the way from the long stretch of hallway to his bedroom.

* * *

Konrad stirred in his queens-sized bed.

Shifting into various positions, he tried to make himself more comfortable, but no matter what angle, whether it was on his stomach, back or sides, he couldn't get himself to fall asleep. Moving to the other side, he snuggled under the covers, satisfied and relieved, his face pressed against the pillow, resting on top of his arms. It was an hour or so when he was in the midst of dozing off that Konrad became suddenly aware of a presence in the room. Turning to look over his shoulder, a startled jolt sent him sprawling awake as he caught sight of Spinal by the foot of his bed. Even though the vast majority of him was concealed in heavy shadow, there was no mistaking the glowing red eyes, the bleached whiteness of bone, the red bandana or that awful shield with the yellow runes and eyes. It just stood there in front of him unmoving, watching him, staring directly at him. A shiver worked its way through Konrad's entire body. When he opened his mouth, the only thing he could utter was a frightened moan, his attempt to scream dying at the back of his throat as his eyes bulged and hair pulled taut against his face. The two stared at each other, their gazes unwavering. Moving his furiously shaking hand to a lamp beside him, Konrad kept his eyes glued on the skeleton. Feeling his way along the table, fumbling as he knocked books onto the floor, he stopped the moment he felt the lamp. Pressing the switch, Konrad turned on the light, illuminating his room.

The moment the light came on, Spinal vanished.

Blinking, the aristocrat scanned his bedroom nervously, then got up and checked every corner, behind every piece of furniture in the room and underneath his own bed, even studied the space in front of the footboard where Spinal had stood, looking for some sign indicating his presence, that the little shit had been here.

Nothing.

Konrad let out a shaky sigh, all the muscles in his body loosening as he settled back into his bed. Resting his back against the headboard, he stared in front of him.

Was he going crazy?

Had Spinal actually been in the room with him?

The skeleton could teleport at will, but when Konrad turned on the lights, there was no green flash or light like the other times.

Was it all a dream?

Konrad had made certain that it had been secured to the table - there was no chance of it ever getting out.

 _'Was there?'_ Part of him questioned.

"So much for a pleasant night's sleep," he muttered to himself.

Looking to the toppled books on the floor next to him, he reached down and picked up one of them.

"Which one is this?" he wondered. "'Faust' by Goethe. How apropos."

Flipping open the pages, he read it aloud to himself.

 _"'Part One: Dedication._

 _Again you show yourselves, you wavering Forms._

 _Revealed, as you once were, to clouded vision._

 _Shall I attempt to hold you fast once more?_

 _Heart's willing still to suffer that illusion?_

 _You crowd so near! Well then, you shall endure,_

 _And rouse me, from your mist and cloud's confusion:_

 _My spirit feels so young again: it's shaken_

 _By magic breezes that your breathings waken.'"_

* * *

Konrad awoke, groaning as his head pounded and the room spun.

Rubbing his eyes as the book fell to the floor, he massaged his temples as he heard the door creak open.

"Guten Morgen, Herr Baron," Jurgen said as he entered with a tray of food. "Your breakfast is ready."

"Go away," Konrad muttered.

"What's the matter?"

"I have the mother of all headaches and I never want to see food ever again," the aristocrat said.

"Ahh, so you're having a hangover, are you? Well it serves you right," Jurgen admonished.

"Yes, thank you, Jurgen," Konrad dryly said.

"I told you how many times already to lay off the drink?"

"Jurgen, have mercy and lay off, will you?" Konrad said. "I want a cup of coffee."

Setting the tray down onto his lap, the servant obediently poured him a fresh cup.

"What's my schedule for today?" he asked.

"Dr. Gupte wants to speak with you," Jurgen answered.

"Did she say why?"

"She didn't."

"Perhaps she's taken a liking to me."

"Unlikely," the servant replied. "Also you got a call from Mr. Kellog. He said something about filling in the gap of the production line?"

Konrad nodded in understanding.

"Ahh, of course," he said.

"So you know what he's referring to?"

"Ja, he's talking about the void created by Kilgore," Konrad explained, "so now it falls to me to review the other proposals to see if I can find a suitable replacement if I want to meet the deadline four years from now."

"I take it from your tone that you're not enthusiastic about it?" Jurgen asked.

"Not at all, Jurgen," Konrad. "I've been through them all and they're all shit. One of them looks like a fucking garbage can!"

"Herr Baron!" Jurgen scolded. "Watch your language."

"Sorry," Konrad said.

Looking to the tray, he noticed the glass jar that held the sugar.

"Is that new?" he asked.

"Ja, I had to get a replacement for the other one after it broke," Jurgen said. "It came from down in the village."

"Huh." Konrad grunted. "What about Eagle? Has there been any change?"

The servant shook his head.

"I'm afraid not, Herr Baron."

"Dammit," the aristocrat swore.

Moving the tray from his lap onto the bed, he slowly stood up.

"I'd like to see him."

"Herr Baron-"

"I said I'd like to see him," Konrad repeated. "Please."

Jurgen nodded.

"Alright," he said. "Let me just get you some fresh pants and cloak."

* * *

Eagle lied on the bed before Konrad, his body heavily bandaged with wires protruding out from him, connecting him to an IV drip and an ECG machine that beeped periodically while an oxygen mask hissed.

"Tell me," Konrad said, "what are his chances of waking up?"

"It's not good, Herr Baron," Jurgen said. "Those machines are the only things keeping him alive. That's what the doctors say."

"And there's-there's nothing I can do," Konrad said.

"I'm afraid so."

"Can you give me a moment?"

"As you wish, Herr Baron."

Once Jurgen departed, Konrad sat there, watching and listening as the heart rate monitor continued to blip.

Staring at the unconscious young man, he lowered his head in respect.

"If you can hear me," he said aloud, "I just want to let you know how sorry I am for everything that has happened. I'm sorry for the problems caused by my factories to your people in Idaho. I'm sorry for getting you involved. I'm also sorry that you had to pay for my...carelessness. I didn't know that any of this would have happened."

He inhaled.

"I have been so frustrated by efforts to find a cure that I've looked to other sources for possible relief. It was because of me that creature murdered those people at the arena," he confessed. "Also, I had-I had wanted to use your plight for my own selfish reasons. Your brother is "tooat", a healer. Is that the proper term?"

Eagle just lay there.

Konrad sniffed.

"It doesn't matter. I thought that perhaps I could arrange some sort of deal with you and your brother, to teach me about the weyekin and to find some way to rid me of whatever this is," he explained, "but I stopped the moment I realized how wrong it was. I was going to put an end to it, right then and there at the arena, when you showed up."

The aristocrat shifted in his wheelchair.

"I always had a great respect for you," he said. "I just wish that I had expressed that sooner. I wish that there was some way to put things right."

He brushed his hand against his own face.

"I don't expect you to forgive me. But I do thank you for coming to my aid and for saving my life, and because of that, I'll do everything I can to save you."

He faltered.

"However," he said, "if-if this the last time that I see you alive, I want you to know, Eagle, that from this day forward I will strive to become a better person than I was."

Turning the wheelchair around, he rolled to the door.

"Auf Wiedersehen, Eagle."

The Native American gave no response as he left the room.

* * *

Konrad sat at his bed, his cloak and scarf discarded.

"Are you okay, Herr Baron?" Jurgen asked.

The aristocrat shook his head.

"I feel so helpless, Jurgen," he said. "I wish that I could do something."

"You tried everything you could," the servant assured. "There's nothing else you can do. It'll only be a matter of time before his body gives out."

Jurgen held out a cup.

"Your coffee, Herr Baron?"

Looking up at him, Konrad gratefully accepted.

Taking a sip, he spat.

"Ugh!" Konrad said in disgust.

"What is it?" Jurgen asked.

"What did you put in my coffee?!"

"Sugar."

"It tastes like salt."

"Ah hell," Jurgen said. "One of the servants must have mixed up the salt with the sugar. I'm so sorry, Herr Baron. Let me go replace that."

The moment the servant uttered those words as he took the tray from him, a flash of inspiration struck Konrad.

"Mein gott," he said quietly.

"What?" Jurgen asked.

"I know of a way to save Eagle!"

"You do?" Jurgen said incredulously. "How?"

Konrad got up, grabbing his cloak and scarf as he went back into his wheelchair, then rolled out the door.

"Where are you going?" Jurgen asked.

"To my office to do some research."

The servant stared confusedly out the doorway, then sighed as he took the tray to the kitchen.

* * *

Konrad nodded as finished reading the online article, jotting some notes down onto paper.

Next to him were various books and stacks of printed paper.

The knock sounded at the door.

"Come in."

Jurgen stepped inside.

"Is something wrong, Jurgen?" Konrad asked.

"I just wanted to remind of your appointment with Gupte," he said as he eyed the various books and the huge pile on his desk.

"Ja, ja, I haven't forgotten," Konrad waved away.

"What's all this?"

"ARIA has been helping me locate some scholarly articles from medical journals."

"So you've taken my advice to use her to help with your treatment?" Jurgen said.

"Not for me, Jurgen," Konrad said. "For Eagle."

The servant gave him a puzzled look.

"For Eagle?" he repeated. "How?"

"By giving him a new body."

Jurgen blinked.

"Pardon?"

"A brain transplant, Jurgen," Konrad said.

"Don't be ridiculous, Herr Baron," Jurgen replied.

"I'm not!"

"Herr Baron, brain transplants aren't possible!"

"Not yet, Jurgen," Konrad said. "Just follow me on this: what if we were to create the first ever cyborg? An entirely synthetic body, but with a human brain?"

"And what do you hope to do, use Eagle as a test subject for this madness?"

"Jurgen, the only thing keeping him alive are those machines! The only way to save his life is to transplant his brain into a better body."

"This is insane," Jurgen said.

"Jurgen, he'll die without it!"

"Then maybe it would be better if he had!"

"Oh, so now you're just going to give up on him, are you?! You'd rather to just let him die in this house?!"

"Don't act so sanctimonious with me, Herr Baron," Jurgen spoke sternly. "You don't think I know what you're doing? This isn't for his benefit, it's for yourself."

"No," Konrad denied.

"You hope to use that boy even at his deathbed for your own selfish purposes!" Jurgen said.

"No! It's not like that!"

"The fact is, Herr Baron, is that you don't give a shit about him. He's just another opportunity for you."

Konrad exhaled.

"I'd be lying if I said that I didn't find the prospect of a new body attractive or that I had never considered it for myself when it occurred to me," he admitted. "That said, there's too many variables and uncertainties with such a process. There's no guarantee that I'd even be able to survive it. There's no guarantee that when I wake up after the surgery that I'd still be the same person, that my mind would carry over into my new body. For all I know, opening myself up to..."cyberization", could make my mind open for whoever to rewire, for hacking. I can imagine that David would be thrilled with such an opportunity. Just hack into my head and make me do or say something that will make me look stupid or compromise my position as Chairman. Hell, he wouldn't have to do anything at all. Things could happen on the surgery table. A stupid surgeon who doesn't know what they're doing is one of many hazards along with a good doctor that knows what they're doing but who has been paid to "accidentally" botch up the procedure. Mistakes, deliberate or otherwise, can happen on the surgeon's table. I considered all that."

He sighed.

"I'm not a saint, Jurgen, nor did I claim to be morally superior. I'm fallible, and I'm painfully aware of it. But, believe me when I say that this isn't about me. I'm trying to do what is right."

"The right thing to do, Herr Baron," Jurgen said, "is to tell his brother and let him take care of Eagle, let him know what has happened."

"Jurgen, we've already been through this."

"Herr Baron, the longer you keep it from him, the worse it will get."

Konrad chuckled.

"Worse?" He repeated. "How could it possibly get any worse? How is he worse than everything else around here? Let's do a tally, shall we? I'm a four hundred pound werewolf with argyria. My arena was hijacked by a demonic skeleton that left a trail of bodies in its wake and promptly destroyed the building. The artifact connected to it is indestructible, leaving me stuck with the bloody thing. I have a psychopath locked away in the basement who's become even more dangerous-"

"Psychopath? What are you talking about?" Jurgen asked confusedly.

"That man from the toolshed. Ferris."

"What happened to him?"

Konrad paused.

"Hadn't Dieter told you?"

"No," the servant said.

Before he could respond, Konrad's cellphone conveniently went off.

Taking it out from his pocket, he raised it up to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Ah, there you are," a woman's voice said on the line.

It was Gupte.

"I was just calling to see if you were still coming to my office? You're late," she said.

Konrad shivered at the flat iciness in her tone.

"Ja, I'm sorry, Herr Doctor," he said. "I had a bit of an emergency. I'll be down shortly."

She didn't say anything as she hung up.

Hanging up his own phone, he looked up at Jurgen.

"I'm late for my appointment with Gupte," he said. "We'll talk about this later."

"Very well," the servant said as he wheeled him out of his office.

* * *

Once they arrived in the basement, Jurgen wheeled Konrad to Gupte's office. As they passed by the empty dungeon cell, the latter cast a nervous glance at it, then looked straight back.

"I hate being down here," Konrad said quietly.

"I know you do," Jurgen replied.

"Why the hell didn't I have the contractors build the lab on the upper levels?" he muttered to himself.

"You're a creature of comfort, Herr Baron," the servant answered. "Would you prefer residing down here while they worked up there?"

"I was being rhetorical."

Jurgen knocked on the door.

"Come in," Gupte said from inside.

Opening the door, the servant rolled his ward inside, carefully positioning him close to Gupte's desk while he closed the door behind him.

"How are you feeling?" Gupte asked.

"A little sore, but better," Konrad said. "Is it about my blood tests?"

"Ja," she answered.

"What's wrong?" he asked worriedly.

The doctor took off her glasses and pinched the bridge of her nose.

"Are the results that bad?" Jurgen asked.

"There weren't _any_ , unfortunately."

"I don't understand," he said.

"I'm afraid that I'm going to need to take more blood samples from you, Herr Baron," she said. "An incident had occurred."

Konrad tilted his head curiously.

"Why? What happened?"

"It's a bit embarrassing to say, really, but, um..." she paused, inhaled deeply then sighed. "They were eaten."

 _"Eaten?!"_ Konrad said in surprise. "What do you mean "eaten"? What, some moron mistook my samples for ketchup or something?"

"Nein, nein," Gupte waved, "it's nothing at all like that. One of the animal handlers carelessly forgot to properly lock one of the cages, which in turn allowed a king cobra to escape free."

"A _king_ _cobra_!" Jurgen exclaimed.

"Ja, but it's contained now," she assured.

"Good heavens, what is that doing here?!"

"It's not as strange as you make it out to be," Gupte said. "Snake venom contains biologically active ingredients that are useful for treating diseases. Viper venom, for example, is used for anticoagulant drugs, while crotoxin, proteins derived from the South American rattlesnake, are used in treatments for some forms of cancer. Cobra venom, though, is invaluable due to their containing a protein unique to them called ohanin, which is a highly potent painkiller twenty times more powerful than morphine."

"And this snake ate the samples?" Jurgen said.

"I'm afraid so," she replied.

Konrad gave her a doubtful expression.

"Forgive me, Herr Doctor," he said, "but I smell bullshit. While I don't claim to be an animal expert by any means, I am pretty certain that snakes don't drink blood."

"They don't," Gupte replied. "They _do_ , however, eat mice, especially ones that had been _injected_ with said-samples for study."

The aristocrat grimaced at the glare she gave him.

"Point taken," he conceded.

She then stood up from her desk.

"Now, if you will follow me, I will need to-"

She was cut off as a chorus of startled screams echoed in the basement.

"What the hell?" Gupte said.

Jurgen rolled Konrad after her as they stepped outside her office. Outside, a crowd of researchers were all clustered together in front of a door, murmuring to themselves.

"What's going on?" Gupte demanded.

"One of the cobra cages broke!" someone said.

"Shit," she swore. "Was anyone hurt?"

"No, ma'am, but one of the snakes is acting all funny. It ate the other five."

Her lips formed a tight line.

"Let me through," she said as she pushed through the crowd. "I want to see."

Konrad twisted in his seat, trying to see around the group.

"Mein gott," Gupte gasped. "It's gotten bigger!"

"Ja!"

The aristocrat eyed the group in annoyance.

"Can everyone let me through, please? I want to see what is going on!"

People backed off as he pushed through toward the door. Opening it slowly, Konrad peered through the small crack.

"What the?"

Lying on the floor with the shattered glass was an enormous mass that was as long and as thick as a telephone pole, its form swollen and a pasty white. Nearby, animals were going berserk in their cages, with dogs barking loudly and furiously at the thick mound that lied on the floor. Two animal handlers approached the still creature, one of them carrying a large bag while the other held some sort of hook or instrument that's used for handling snakes. One of them stepped on a piece of glass, causing it to it suddenly launch itself straight up into the air, startling everyone, before collapsing back onto the ground again.

"What is going on with its skin?" Jurgen asked. "Is it dying?"

"Look!" A researcher pointed.

The serpent swayed its tail from side to side weakly, then lifted it up and slammed it back to the floor. Konrad watched as its skin rippled, all of it accompanied by grotesque sounds of pops and crunches.

"What is happening to it?" Konrad asked.

Nobody answered. Everyone was too caught up and fascinated by the thing as a shriveled up arm suddenly ripped free beneath the serpent's hood, spilling blood, fluid and dead skin aside. The color started to change, becoming more of a fleshy pink hue, giving the creature a vaguely fetal appearance as it pushed itself clumsily along the ground.

"It's mutating!" Gupte said in wonder.

Konrad took out his cellphone. Dialing the number, he raised it to his ear.

"Dieter, I have a situation," he said.

"What's going on?" the bodyguard asked.

"I'm in the basement next to the dungeon. Get your ass down here immediately!"

Hanging up, he put the cellphone away, watching as the creature crawled along the ground like some sort of alligator, dragging and brushing itself against cabinets and tables, knocking over beakers, microscopes and other equipment. Looking at its strange, googly-eyed head, it gave no indication of having intelligence. If anything, the creature didn't seem to be even _aware_ or _registering_ that it was moving at all as it flailed its arms about in all directions. Rolling over onto its back, it pitifully waved its hands in the air before rolling back indelicately onto its belly.

"BARON! BARON? WHERE ARE YOU?" Dieter called out.

"OVER HERE, DIETER!" Konrad called back.

Pushing through the crowd, Dieter stepped toward him before stopping at the door with Michael and Roger.

"What the fuck?!" Dieter said. "Where the fuck did that thing come from?!"

"We'll worry about it later," Konrad said. "Right now I want you three to get in there and kill it."

"WHAT?!" Roger gaped.

"Absolutely not, Herr Baron!" Gupte protested. "The creature is much more valuable alive."

"Gupte, have you gone mad?! Do you see how big that thing is?! Where the hell are we going to put it?!"

"Why, the dungeon, of course."

He froze.

"The dungeon," he repeated.

"Yes," Gupte replied. "Since it's not being used, it'll be suitable for now."

He shook his head in disapproval.

"Fine," he said, then looked up at Dieter. "Get in there and help those men catch that thing."

"I am NOT going in there," Michael said resolutely. "Fuck that!"

"Michael, get in there. Right. Now."

"Fuck off, _you_ go in there!"

"This isn't the time for this!"

 _"I'm scared of snakes!"_

Dieter nodded.

"He can stay here, Baron," the bodyguard said. "Roger and I will handle it."

He said something under his breath that Konrad didn't catch as he and his associate pushed the door open and stepped inside.

One of the animal handlers waved them away.

"The hell are you doing?! Get back!" he said in English.

"The Baron wanted us to help," Dieter said.

The handler frowned.

"We need to restrain the creature," he said.

"How do we do that?" Roger asked.

"When I count to three," the handler said as he put his tool aside on a table and took off his belt, "we're all going to pounce on it at the same time. I'm going to muzzle its mouth, but I need someone to put a hood or a blindfold over its head so that it can't see."

"Oh god," Roger groaned.

"Wait, why do we have to pounce on this thing?! Why not just tranquilize the fucker?!"

"Reptiles have slower metabolisms than mammals do," the handler explained. "The dosage level and type of sedative used has to be extremely precise, otherwise we'll end up killing it. This is further complicated by species and individual differences in response to commonly used anesthetic and analgesic agents."

"Well why not freeze it?"

"I wouldn't recommend that at all. Again-"

"It will kill it," Dieter finished. "Okay, okay."

Huffing, he lowered himself, eying the freakish creature as it lay there.

"On three," the handler said.

Konrad watched as Dieter braced himself.

"One."

Roger wiped sweat off from his forehead.

"Two."

"As soon as this is over, Baron," Dieter called back, "I'm billing you for dry-cleaning!"

"Noted," Konrad said.

"Three!"

The four men rushed over and piled themselves on top of the creature before it had a chance to respond.

"Jesus this thing stinks!" Dieter groaned.

"KEEP HOLDING IT DOWN!" The handler yelled as he muzzled its jaws shut.

Konrad watched as the men struggled to maintain their grip and weight on the damn thing as it bucked underneath them. Once the blindfold was on, the handler looked to his compatriots.

"Okay," he said, catching his breath. "We got it."

"Ah, wonderful!" Gupte called. "Now I'm going to need it transported over to the dungeon cell next door."

"The dungeon! But-"

"Just do it," Konrad said. "It will be temporary."

Frowning, the handler looked to the other men.

"Alright, on three, we're gonna carry this big sucker out, okay? One, two, three, LIFT!"

Grunting with exertion, the four men struggled as the creature wriggled in their grip.

"We're going to need some more help please!"

"OW!" Roger yelled.

"ROGER, ARE YOU OKAY?!" Konrad yelled.

"Yeah, the damn thing scratched me," the bodyguard replied as other researchers came in to assist.

It took a total of twelve men and women to move the animal over to the cell. Konrad gagged and covered up his nose as the creature passed by him. It was an awful smell, a strong musky odor like a rotting animal carcass combined with something undefinable. Jurgen stared at the thing, unbothered by the smell. Michael had put as much distance as possible between himself and the creature, refusing to even look at it. Konrad watched as they placed it down inside and as the handler removed the blindfold.

"Can someone get me my hook, please?" the handler asked.

Dieter went back to the lab and brought it to him. Taking hold of it, the handler quickly got up. The creature just lay there. Backing away, Konrad watched as the handler used his hook to peel off the muzzle. Once it was off, he withdrew it, then closed the door and locked it.

The tenseness that Konrad felt was gone.

"Thank god that's over and done with," Jurgen said.

"So what are you going to do with it, Herr Doctor?" Konrad asked.

"I'll need to run some tests on it," Gupte said. "It'll take a while to thoroughly examine it."

"What about my blood tests?"

"We'll reschedule for another time, Herr Baron."

As Dieter and Roger approached him, Konrad plugged his nose while Michael vomited.

"Aw Michael, for fuck's sake!" the former swore.

"I'm sorry!" Michael said weakly.

Konrad took notice of Roger's bleeding hand.

"Are you okay?" he asked.

The bodyguard waved it off.

"Yeah, it's just a scratch," he replied.

"Wash it off and get it bandaged," Konrad said.

"It's not a big deal," Roger insisted.

"Just humor me," Konrad said.

Shrugging, Roger approached the doctor, who then took him to the examination room.

"You owe me, Baron," Dieter said angrily. "Big time!"

"Believe me, Dieter, I know," Konrad replied. "Get a shower, you smell."

The bodyguard nodded, then left without saying another word.

Konrad felt eyes baring down on him, then turned to look up at Jurgen behind him.

"Well don't look at me! I didn't do this!"

* * *

Rolling through the hallway, Konrad heard a noise in one of the rooms. It wasn't the skeleton, thank god. Wheeling himself into his private den, the aristocrat found Dieter, Michael and Roger seated on one of the couches, watching something on one of their cellphones, killing themselves with laughter. Closing the door behind him, Konrad watched the bodyguards curiously.

"What are you watching?" he asked, drawing their attention.

"People made some gifs from your tournament," Dieter chuckled.

Turning his cellphone in his direction, Konrad scowled as the naked man from the tournament did a little dance while flapping his arms wildly, all of it done to the beat of dubstep.

He sighed.

"Should have guessed," he replied. "Can you turn that shit off please?"

"You hate dubstep, Baron?" Dieter asked.

"Loathe it."

"Oh come on! It's not that bad!"

"Not that bad? It sounds like a computer having dysentery! Turn it off."

Shrugging, the bodyguard obeyed.

"By the way, Baron," Dieter said seriously, "there's footage that you need to see here."

"Why? What is it?"

"There's some new never-before-seen footage from the show."

Puzzled, Konrad moved toward the trio and took Dieter's cellphone.

"Just click the video," Roger said.

Pressing the play button, Konrad stared at the screen, then turned away the moment he saw the animated obscenity being displayed.

"Oh for fuck's sake!" he said.

Dieter and the others laughed as he tossed the cellphone back to them.

"What the fuck is _wrong_ with these people?!" Konrad growled.

"Apparently some people on the Internet thought you and Spinal make a cute couple," Dieter said between breaths.

"I love the comment here," Roger laughed. "'Dog gets his bone!'"

Upon hearing that, the trio howled even louder, their eyes watering from laughing so hard.

"Very funny!" Konrad said.

It was amazing how the Internet can turn grown men into little children.

Wiping his eyes, Dieter took a series of slow breaths.

"Ah Christ," he said.

"I am so glad that I hired you three," Konrad dryly commented.

"Sorry, Baron. Just couldn't resist," Dieter said. "I just wanted to see your reaction."

"Well now you saw it." Konrad stated, unimpressed. "Was there anything else about the tournament?"

The bodyguards collected themselves.

"A couple of videos from "Last Week Tonight with John Oliver", The "Tonight Show" and "Saturday Night Live"," Michael said. "Also there's an interview with Jesse Ventura. Apparently he had fled the program when Carnegie started to rot."

"Anything else?"

"Meh, not much," Dieter said. "However, it seems that women online have taken a fancy to you, Baron."

"I'm not falling for it, Dieter."

"I'm serious!" he insisted. "You'd be surprised some of the Twitter, Tumblr and Facebook posts out there!"

"Just what I need, to be the object of lustful thoughts by freaks online," he grumbled. "Now, if you're all done having fun at my expense, I'd like to be alone here. I want to converse in private with the Board members on my laptop."

The bodyguards nodded and got up.

Michael paused though.

"Herr Baron," he said slowly, "we haven't offended you, have we?"

"Nein," Konrad said. "I just want to be alone when I have my meeting. Go."

He watched as Michael disappeared, following Roger and Dieter out the door, then set up his laptop after it had closed behind them. Once everything was ready, the monitor flickered, showing David and the Board members on the screen.

"Guttentag, everyone!" Konrad greeted.

"Hello, Mr. Chairman," the figures replied onscreen.

"I'm glad to see everyone here," the aristocrat said.

"You said that there was something to discuss," David reminded.

"Ja," Konrad said. He opened his mouth to elaborate, but then paused.

"Mr. Chairman?" David called out.

"Forgive me, but has everyone turned off their cellphones and taken security precautions for this channel?"

"Yes, yes, yes. Everything is in order."

"Good," Konrad said as he inserted a memory key into his laptop. "After careful consideration of the various proposals submitted to me, I'm afraid that none were sufficient enough to replace the Kilgore heavy assault android."

This caused a series of murmurs amongst the Board members.

"However," he continued, "despite this setback, I wish to put forward an alternative project. One that will revolutionize military technology."

Konrad then brought up his email and typed in the addresses of everyone present, then attached the file from his USB.

"Here is the file," he said before pressing "Send", then waited.

The aristocrat watched the screen as David and the others typed on their computers, then clicked on the attached file.

"'Project...Fulgore'?" the former read, puzzled by the title.

"Ja."

"It sounds pretty violent."

Konrad stared at the screen.

"Violent?"

"Yes."

"David, I'm surprised by you. Have you completely forgotten your Latin?"

David frowned.

"I never possessed the aptitude for language in the same way you had, Konrad. Latin especially," he conceded. "Could you enlighten us on its significance and meaning?"

"'Fulgore' is the ablative form for 'fulgor', meaning 'lightning', 'brightness', 'flash', 'glitter', 'gleam' or 'splendor'. It is also part of the name of a Roman goddess, Fulgora, who served as Jupiter's personal shield maiden and armorer, supplying him with his thunderbolts."

David nodded half interestedly.

"Well, that is all very interesting," he replied. "And what pray tell is Project Fulgore?"

"To put it simply, David," Konrad explained, "it's a stepping stone. Imagine for a moment, ladies and gentlemen, that you all have a debilitating illness or condition. You can barely move, or you're in a coma, and your chances of recovery are very slim. What if, ladies and gentlemen, there was a way to escape such a horrible fate?"

"How?" a woman asked, intrigued.

"By building a mechanical body."

David scowled.

"Is this some sort of joke?" he said.

"Not at all, David," Konrad replied.

"Mr. Chairman, this suggestion is ridiculous."

"Is it?" Konrad queried. "Look around you, David. We're all familiar with the restorative technologies such as artificial limbs, pacemakers, artificial hearts, 3D printed bones, organs and bionic implants. Also, how can we forget about our exoskeletons, BCIs, BBIs, or the cyborg tissues developed at Harvard? Have you also forgotten about some of the remote control animals by our friends at DARPA?"

"Yes, I'm aware of all that," David said, "but what you're suggesting goes beyond mere limb replacement or controlling some rodent or insect - you're suggesting a brain transplant, for heaven's sake! A person cannot survive such a process, nor do we have the means available for such a thing!"

"Precisely, which is why I said that Project Fulgore is merely a stepping stone to that eventuality," Konrad said. "David, I am not looking to create a man with a machine for a body, I am talking about a machine with a human brain."

The bald man shook his head. "I'm afraid that I don't quite follow."

"Our current android models, while effective, are hackable," Konrad explained. "A machine that utilizes the human brain for storing information, however, can counter that particular problem since the brain itself is one of nature's most advanced supercomputers, impossible to hack from an outside source."

"And hypothetically impossible to control, wouldn't it?" David countered.

"Not if we have the right equipment, which we most certainly do."

"And suppose that we do follow through on this mad scheme of yours, Mr. Chairman," David said slowly, "there's still the issue of Ethics Committees and willing participants. I doubt that anyone would be eager to sign up for something that could potentially kill them, nor do I think that the former would sign this off. This entire thing reeks of potential lawsuits."

"Really, David, you make it sound like I am Dr. Frankenstein or something!" Konrad exclaimed. "If you look at the proposal itself carefully, you will note that it wouldn't involve _live_ participants. Rather, the program will be reaching out through the proper channels involved with organ donation in the European Union such as Spain, Austria and Belgium along with the Landstuhl Regional Medical Center."

"I don't feel comfortable with this," David said as he shook his head.

"Why? When a person dies, they don't possess the same rights as they do in life, David - they are relegated to being property. Organ donation is perfectly legal, provided that the source is reputable, that the organ in question hasn't been attained through dubious means and that consent has been given before its removal."

"And how do you know this will work?"

"It's all there, David," Konrad said. "I've also included financial figures, estimates, scholarly articles etc."

"The estimates make me a bit concerned, Mr. Chairman," Sackett said. "What you're proposing is _extremely_ expensive, even more than the Kilgore project."

"Ja, I'm quite aware of that, but as I have noted the projections for profit are high."

"I still think it is too risky," David said uncertainly.

Konrad was starting to feel nervous.

"There's more," he said suddenly. "My men and I have stumbled upon something. A potential new energy source."

People murmured on the screen.

"Really?" David said curiously. "Do tell."

The aristocrat hesitated for a moment.

"...It-it was discovered a few days ago by accident," Konrad said. "Research is being done and results look promising. Very promising."

"Well," the bald man said with a smile, "that _is_ interesting."

"I don't see any information about it here," one of the Board members noted.

"A report will be submitted in due time for your inspection," Konrad promised. "If the energy is viable, we can use it to power Project Fulgore. Like I said, David, Project Fulgore is a stepping stone in more than enough ways for the company."

"Is it clean? This energy you speak of?"

"We're still running tests."

"If it is, this could be just the thing we need," David said. "After all, there _is_ pressure from environmental groups and the public for our products to be more eco-friendly. The Board members and I will take a look at your proposal, but we will need some time to consider it. Also, we would like to be updated on your progress whenever possible."

"Of course."

"I cannot guarantee its acceptance, Mr. Chairman, but we will carefully consider it," David said.

"That is all I ask for," Konrad said.

"We'll be in touch. And for god's sake, Mr. Chairman, get your webcam fixed."

Once they disappeared from the screen, Konrad turned off his laptop and nervously ran his hand along his chin.

* * *

Konrad sat at the dining room table, eating his plate of salmon and vegetables.

"So how did your meeting with Mr. Kellog go?" Jurgen asked.

"Relatively well," he replied. "David said that he and the other Board members will take a look at my proposal and consider it."

"Doesn't sound like they're convinced," the servant said.

"No," Konrad agreed. "However, there may be a slight chance that it will be approved. I let it slip about there being a possible new energy source."

"What energy source?" Jurgen said in puzzlement. "You made no indication of there being such."

"Dieter made an interesting point about how our Ghost skeleton in the attic seems to utilize some sort of energy and had suggested it be studied and possibly harnessed."

"Is it really a good idea, Herr Baron?" the servant said worriedly. "We don't know a thing about what we're dealing with here. For heaven's sake, what if that energy ends up creating more like it?"

"I thought about that," Konrad said, "which is why we need to study it, otherwise we ourselves could be at risk."

"And suppose that this energy isn't viable at all, Herr Baron," Jurgen said. "What then?"

"Then hopefully Project Cinder will prove to be a better option."

The servant stared at him.

"I know you disapprove, Jurgen, but I need _something_! I promised to have a report on it."

"Then undo that promise."

"Jurgen-"

"No, don't "Jurgen" me, Herr Baron!" The servant snapped. "This whole thing is absolutely repulsive. You have ruined a man beyond repair and recognition, you hope to experiment on another, and now you hope to parasitize off that creature?! Off of Ferris?!"

"Well what else do you expect me to do, Jurgen?!" Konrad barked back. "I am stuck with them! Spinal is indestructible, impervious to anything and everything. That piece of shit Ferris has now become a walking sun and possibly harbors radioactive materials in his body, and Eagle is a vegetable. Jurgen, I'm trying my damnedest to do what is right, but they are going to cost money. Even if I just let them sit there and do nothing with them, it's going to cost me money just to contain them. Spinal has very nearly ruined me, and I cannot imagine the lives Ferris must have ruined himself. I'm not like them, Jurgen. I want to save that boy's life. If I have to sacrifice two evil bastards for an innocent, then so be it."

Jurgen's shoulders sagged.

"Herr Baron," he said, "I'm afraid for you. Ever since the tournament, ever since Spinal showed up, it feels like there is something hanging in the air. I don't like it. I'm worried that its presence might be influencing what's happening around us. Can't you feel it?"

Konrad nervously shifted in his seat.

"You do, don't you? Herr Baron, I'm worried that little by little that thing is getting inside your head and is trying to destroy you. I implore you, Herr Baron, please, stop this while you still have your soul and while there is still time!"

The dining room was quiet as Jurgen went to clean the dishes.

"If only if it were that easy," Konrad said aloud.

* * *

"Do you believe in God?"

The question took Dieter by surprise.

"What brought this about?" he asked.

Konrad sat close to the hearth, holding his glass of wine.

"Just curious," he asked. "Do you?"

The bodyguard exhaled his cigarette, dumping the ashes from its tip into the hearth.

"Nope," he replied without hesitation.

"Why?"

Dieter watched the blazing fire.

"Just don't," he said.

"Do you believe in Heaven, Hell, damnation or destiny?"

"Nope, nope, nope and nope," Dieter answered quickly before flicking the cigarette into the inferno. "You gonna tell me what this is all about?"

"Just reflecting," Konrad said. He sighed. "Lawrence had decided to become a priest."

"Heh," Dieter smirked. "Well, good luck to him. He's gonna need it."

He turned to face the Baron.

"Even with that creature hanging around," Konrad said, "you never paused to think about the possibility of such things?"

Dieter nodded.

"Ahh, I get it. You're spooked."

The aristocrat nodded.

"The way I figure it, Baron," Dieter said, "life is full of little mysteries and miracles. Our skeleton is no exception. But, with a little investigation, I'm sure you'll find a rational explanation for everything."

"The problem with that, Dieter, is that there is _nothing rational_ whatsoever about it, though," Konrad said. "Skeletons can't just do the things that thing can on their own."

Dieter shrugged.

"Suppose that you die," Konrad said, "and you arrive at the gates of Heaven, and there you meet God face to face. What do you think he would say to you?"

It took a couple of minutes for a response.

"'Really? Midgets?'"

Konrad trembled furiously, trying very hard not to smile.

"Th-that's not funny," he said, trying desperately to refrain from laughing.

"Bullshit it isn't!" Dieter chuckled.

"I'm serious, Dieter," Konrad said. "What would you do if everything like that was real?"

"Well, if there was a God," the bodyguard said, "I wouldn't exactly feel comfortable knowing that I'm constantly being watched. I'd especially find it bothersome when doing lewd acts in the bedroom."

Konrad shuddered.

"That was too much information," he replied. "But honestly, what would you say if you encountered the very thing that you denied for so long?"

Dieter shrugged.

"'Whoops! My bad!'" he answered.

The aristocrat shook his head wearily at him.

"You have the soul of an amoeba," he said.

"Why thank you!" Dieter said, smiling. "What about you?"

Konrad looked at him uncertainly.

"I don't know," he said. "To a certain extent I am getting a sense of...providence. Like events have been carefully prearranged for everything to fall into place."

"For what purpose?" Dieter asked.

He frowned, then took a sip from his glass.

"I don't know," he admitted.

He then looked up at him.

"Dieter, I want you to listen carefully to me," he said lowly.

"What do you need, Baron?"

"Run."

The bodyguard jerked his head back, startled.

"Sorry?"

"I feel like there are things closing in on this household and it'll be only a matter of time before it finally catches up," Konrad said. "I want you, Jurgen and everyone to get out of here as quickly as possible. Get out while you still can, never look back and RUN!"

Dieter gave him a long pitying look.

"I think you've had about enough of that drink, Baron," he said as he took away Konrad's glass. "You don't have to worry about any ghosts or goblins, you've got me. Trust me, I'm a professional ass-kicker. Things are going to be okay. I'll just wheel you to your room."

The aristocrat struggled to say something, to say anything, but stopped when it became clear that Dieter wasn't going to take him seriously.

 _'What's the use?'_ he thought.

* * *

Konrad sat up from his bed and stretched his stiff muscles, massaging his temples.

"Never again!" he swore.

After he took an aspirin, had his coffee, a shower and got dressed, he rolled out into the hallway in his wheel chair, where he was met by both Dieter and Roger.

"Good morning," he said.

"Good morning, Baron," Dieter greeted.

"Good morning, Herr Baron," Roger said.

Konrad stared at him.

"Are you alright, Roger? You look rather pale," he said.

The bodyguard shivered.

"Ja, I don't feel too well, Herr Baron." he admitted.

"Maybe you should get checked out by Gupte," Konrad suggested.

"Nah, I'm probably coming down with a cold."

"Would you like some time off?"

"Nein, nein," Roger protested. "I'm not _that_ sick."

The aristocrat studied him for a moment, then nodded.

"Alright, if you insist," he said, then looked around. "Where is Michael?"

Both bodyguards shook their heads.

"Neither of us have seen him," Dieter replied.

Konrad felt a slight churn in his stomach. Something was wrong.

"Did either of you check his room?"

"We actually were just about to, Herr Baron," Roger said.

"I'm coming with you."

* * *

Dieter knocked loudly on the door.

"Michael, are you okay in there, buddy?" he called.

No answer came.

The bodyguard knocked again.

"Hello?"

"Try calling his cellphone," Konrad said.

Taking out his phone, Dieter dialed Michael's number and waited as it rang. After a few minutes, he shook his head.

"Nothing," he said.

"What's going on?"

Konrad looked behind him to see Jurgen.

"Have you seen Michael?"

"Nein," the servant answered. "What is this all about?"

"We're trying to find out where he is," Konrad answered. "Could you open the door to his room, please?"

Dieter frowned.

"I don't think we should," he said. "For all we know the guy just overslept."

"Then why won't he answer? Michael doesn't drink, and he's definitely no party animal. Jurgen, open the door to his room."

Jurgen shook his head.

"Herr Baron-"

"Just indulge me, please."

The servant relented, then reached into his coat and took out a set of keys. Once he finished unlocking the door to Michael's room, he pushed it open. Inside, the room was dark. Flicking on a nearby light switch, Konrad stared open-mouthed at its state.

"What the fuck?" Dieter breathed.

Michael was usually an organized and tidy man, one who preferred to keep his room in immaculate condition. To see the disaster that it had become was astonishing and unnervingly out of character. Various pieces of furniture were tossed aside, with wallpapers, mattress, blankets and pillows shredded, with the latter revealing their stuffing. The mirror was smashed and there was writing along the walls, all of it in blood. Sitting in the center of the room in his pyjamas, humming to himself and trembling furiously was Michael, who scrawled something nervously on the floor.

"Michael?" Konrad said in disbelief.

Hearing his name, the bodyguard looked up from what he was doing and looked straight at him, his eyes glassy.

"Jesus Christ," Dieter swore.

"Michael, what happened?" Konrad asked.

"He-he came to see me in the middle of the night," Michael croaked.

"Who?"

"The-the skeleton! I just saw him standing there by the foot of the bed!"

"Michael, buddy, it's just a dream," Dieter assured.

"N-n-n-n-no, no it wasn't!" Michael said, shaking his head, his whole body jittery. "I saw him, and then he just disappeared. I can still hear him laughing. He-he-he-he was on the roof! I heard him walking around up there, laughing! I even-I even heard him in the walls. He's in the walls! Can you hear him?"

He cast his eyes around wildly.

"Shhh," he shushed.

"Call an ambulance," Konrad said to Dieter.

As the bodyguard got out his phone, Michael raised up a piece of broken glass to his throat.

"MICHAEL DON'T!" Konrad yelled.

He watched as the bodyguard slit his jugular open, spilling red fluid onto the floor.

"HOLY SHIT!" Dieter yelled as he ran to his side, putting his hands over the gushing wound as Michael fell back gurgling.

Konrad hastily took out his own cellphone and scrolled through until he found Gupte's number.

"He's dead."

His hand froze over the number.

"Dead?" he repeated.

Dieter nodded.

Konrad lowered his head down respectfully at the fallen bodyguard, then crossed himself.

"May you find peace in the next life, Michael," he said lowly.

"I'll call the police, Baron," Dieter said. "Get out of here."

"But-"

"Now, Baron."

Giving him a nod, he wheeled himself back out through the door. Jurgen stepped outside with him, staring out over the railing.

"I'm sorry about Michael," the servant said.

"So am I." Konrad replied.

"What are you going to do?"

The Baron pondered quietly for a moment before answering.

"Once the police finished with their inquiries, I want Gupte and Rogers to come up and analyze that little shit in the attic. The sooner we figure it out what it is, the faster we can find a way of destroying it and/or getting rid of it."

"But you yourself said that that the creature is indestructible," Jurgen pointed out.

"I had, but we have science and technology on our side, Jurgen, something that Kan-Ra does not have access to. If he couldn't figure out what it is or how to destroy it, then we will."


	10. Chapter Nine: RIPTOR

**Chapter Nine: RIPTOR**

 ** _"The wild beasts of the desert shall also meet with the wild beasts of the island, and the satyr shall cry to his fellow"_ \- **Isaiah 34:14, King James Bible

Hours after the death of Michael, Konrad crept up the ladder into the attic with his remaining bodyguards along with Gupte and Rogers.

"What is this all about, Herr Baron?" Gupte asked.

"It's right over here," Konrad said quietly as he stepped toward the tables.

Following him, Rogers and Gupte cast their eyes down to the skeleton as it lay there unmoving. The latter looked up at the aristocrat, unimpressed.

"This is it?" she said. "One of your Halloween props?"

"It is no prop of mine, Herr Doctor."

The skeleton didn't move.

Konrad leaned close to it.

"I don't understand," he grumbled. "It wouldn't shut up these last few days."

Gupte rolled her eyes.

"Let's get-"

"RAAAH!" Spinal roared, rearing it's head up, startling everyone, causing Gupte and Rogers to jump and yell along with Konrad shouting "SCHEISSE!".

Spinal laughed contentedly on the table.

"Ohhh you little-" the aristocrat refrained from smacking him.

Rogers chuckled.

"Very funny, Baron," he said.

Konrad shook his head.

"Nein, this isn't me," he said. "What you see is no joke."

"Oh come now, Herr Baron," Gupte said. "It wasn't funny the first time, and it isn't funny now."

The Baron stared silently at them, then shifted his head in Dieter's direction.

"Undo the ropes."

The bodyguard gawked at him.

"What? But Baron-"

"Just do it."

As Dieter nervously undid the ropes, Konrad pulled the mask out from his pocket and held it out.

"What are you doing?" Rogers said confusedly.

"Just making sure that it doesn't attack," Konrad answered.

He frowned.

"Really, Baron, you've gone too far. I know what you're trying to do and it won't work."

"You know nothing."

Gupte bristled.

"Now look here, Herr Baron-"

"Nein," Konrad cut sharply, " _you_ listen. I am not trying to scare you, nor is this a joke. What you are going to see is real, and I'll prove it to you."

Looking back to Dieter, the Baron watched as the last of the ropes were removed. Roger covered him with his pistol, his hands steady and carefully fixed on the skeleton. Tossing them aside, the bodyguard backed away quickly and nervously. Spinal remained on the table.

"Rise."

Spinal gave him an unmistakably hateful look.

"I said rise!" Konrad ordered.

He watched as the skeleton reluctantly pushed himself off the table and stood up onto its feet.

"Step forward."

Spinal obediently followed his instructions, stepping toward them. Gupte and Rogers stared at the thing in a mix of horror and wonder.

"Stop."

Konrad watched as it halted just in front of the two scientists.

"What in the world?" Gupte said.

"I know," Konrad nodded. "I'm just as puzzled as you are. Go on, check for yourself. It shouldn't attack."

Gupte ran her hands along Spinal's ribcage and skull.

"This is some sort of animatronic," she said.

"Nein, it isn't."

The duo continued feeling along the creature's body, even between its bones for some indication of a wire or sign of machinery. Finding nothing, Rogers and Gupte turned to look at him.

"Why did you bring us here?"

"Because I want to know what this thing is," Konrad said. "I want to know how it is still alive and how it's able to move around. Even more, I want to know its energy source and how to kill it."

Gupte shook her head.

"This is beyond us," she said.

"Bullshit," the aristocrat said. "Take some samples for examination."

Rogers stared at him.

"Samples?" He said incredulously. "Baron there is nothing! There's no blood vessels, no apparent sinew, nothing!"

"Well something is allowing it to move about!" Konrad retorted. "I want you to run this creature and its shield through every test you can think of. Carbon dating, chemical, mineral, and spectral analysis, thermal imaging, anything available that can provide some insight into this thing. I want a pathologist's report as soon as possible. Money will be no object. If you are in need of extra personnel or equipment, let me know and I will have it all arranged."

"I think I know a colleague in America who might be able to be of some help," Rogers said.

"If you think they could, then by all means get in contact with them immediately, even if they are entirely outside of your respective disciplines. One thing, however - I want this all to be done discretely and quietly. I don't want any of this getting back to the Board. Do you understand?"

Both scientists nodded.

"Good." Konrad said. "Any questions?"

"Yes, you said to analyze the creature's shield?" Rogers repeated.

Pointing to the other table, Konrad directed their eyes to the writhing mass with yellow eyes and watched as both scientists paled. Moving slowly toward them, Konrad watched as both doctors put on some latex gloves and took out some plastic containers, then started swabbing the skeleton. When they finished, they turned their attention to the shield. Gupte was in the midst of swabbing the driftwood when a tentacle brushed against her arm. Gupte always struck Konrad as a strong and capable woman, so to see her visibly flinch and jerk back violently from it as if she had been burned startled him. She stood back, staring at the shield with loathing before resuming her duty. When she briefly touched the shield's head, that brought a loud yell from Spinal.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Rogers yelled.

Grunting loudly as he strained his muscles, it took all of Konrad's will and concentration to keep the creature from moving.

"Keep working!" He said through gritted teeth.

When they finished, the two doctors put their samples into their pockets. Relaxing his muscles, the aristocrat lowered down the artifact.

"When you are both done analysing those two, I want you to then run some tests on this mask," Konrad said.

"Why not give that to us first?" Rogers said.

Konrad opened his mouth, then paused.

"I probably should, but it is dangerous," he said. "This mask is the only thing keeping him from killing us all."

The duo glanced nervously to Spinal as he shifted his mandible around in annoyance.

"On second thought," Konrad said, "perhaps it would be a good idea to start with this first."

He then looked at the skeleton.

"Lie back down on the table."

The skeleton stared at him.

"I said lie back down on the table." Konrad hissed.

Spinal turned around and went back to where he lied.

"Stay."

Konrad gestured to Dieter with his eyes to tie him back up, then watched as the bodyguard hastily wrapped it back around its body. Once he finished tightening, he backed away. Lowering his arm, Konrad watched as Spinal angrily started to thrash wildly on the table, yelling and roaring in rage as it tried to get free. Rogers and Gupte stared, flinching as it continued to wriggle around.

Turning around, Konrad handed them the mask.

"Do whatever it takes to get answers," he said. "I want it all done as soon as possible."

* * *

Several weeks later, Jurgen and Konrad visited Gupte and Rogers at her office.

"I take it you have the report for Spinal?" he said.

She nodded, handing him a folder.

"Medical reports for it were an enormous headache," Gupte replied as he opened and studied the information within. "I had to call for a lot of favors on this one. From all accounts, the creature seems to have endured every sort of trauma imaginable and then some based on the various marks on its bony body."

"Further analysis revealed teeth marks from numerous animal species," Rogers added.

Konrad nodded to himself as he read the results.

"Ja, I suppose it make sense for there to be shark teeth present given its semi-nautical appearance," he said aloud. "Birds, bears, dogs..."

He furrowed his brow.

"Human?"

"Yes," Rogers nodded.

"Such a huge list," Jurgen muttered.

"We've also found a bit of coprolite on it."

"Coprolite?"

"Coprolite," Gupte explained, "are the fossilized remnants of an animal's meal after it was digested."

"So our skeleton stepped into prehistoric shit," Konrad said.

"More like digested and pushed out by something huge. Some of the teeth marks discovered indicated something enormous." said Rogers.

"Then perhaps it had been eaten by a whale."

"The coprolite is millions of years of old. Hundreds of millions, in fact."

"So, what? You mean to tell me our skeleton was eaten and shat out by some sort of dinosaur?!"

Gupte shrugged.

"We're still considering human error on that one," she said.

"What about carbon dating?" Konrad demanded.

"Tests were inconclusive," Rogers said. "A lot of our sources say that the sample had been contaminated, but there were others saying that it's billions of years old. I've gotten quite a lot of flack for it."

"And the mask?"

Gupte shook her head.

"We couldn't get any reading."

"What?" Konrad said in surprise, puzzled.

"We tried everything, but it's like the relic isn't even there."

The aristocrat suppressed a shiver.

"What about the creature's shield?"

Rogers cleared his throat.

"We've been running into some...complications," he replied.

"What kind?" Konrad pressed.

"Every time we made contact with it brought some sort of reaction. It made the skeleton much stronger and more volatile."

"Ja, I noticed," Konrad said.

"What do you make of this?" Jurgen asked.

Rogers shook his head.

"From the tests we did the shield is capable of absorbing any kind of energy. Kinetic, electrical, light...We've even tried sound waves and the damn thing still can pick up on that."

"Tell me, Herr Doctor," Jurgen said, "is the shield controlling the skeleton, or is it vice versa?"

Both doctors shook their heads.

"Impossible to determine."

"Have you detected any signs of radiation?" Konrad asked.

"Nein," Gupte said, "but spectroscopy was able to pick up an odd energy and mineral signature from the bones, shield and mask."

So there was an energy signature.

"Do you know what kind?"

"I think you'd be better off putting together a team to investigate, Baron," Rogers said. "This is entirely outside my field of expertise."

"Same with me," Gupte replied.

"Hm." Konrad hummed.

* * *

As time passed, Konrad sought out special effects companies and artists, interviewing dozens. Unfortunately, finding the suitable candidate had proved to be much more difficult than he had originally anticipated.

Legacy Effects, while phenomenal, were far too expensive.

The same could be said of other exceptional effects companies such as Industrial Light and Magic, Digital Domain, and Weta Workshop.

John Carl Buechler was considered briefly, along with Mr. X Inc and several others.

Some of the work from the interviewees, while good, didn't match Konrad's expectations or standards. Several were just plain awful. A couple that Konrad really wanted to work with weren't available due to conflicting schedules, while a few were arrogant and stuck up. Others had questionable attitudes, opinions and Facebook profiles.

The search became such that at one point Konrad had forced Dieter to drive around and get some Halloween effects make-up and masks along with how-to books, using his poor bodyguards and Jurgen for experimentation.

The results were, to put it bluntly, disastrous.

Paint jobs tended to be runny and got into everything including clothes and fur, while prosthetic pieces would clumsily hang off. Konrad's fur and fingers often got stuck together, making it a pain in the ass to work with. Sometimes they would get stuck to someone's face and the only way to pry them free was by giving Konrad's hand a bit of a trim with scissors, making otherwise adequate makeup jobs to sport the odd mustache or beard. It gave Dieter plenty of photo opportunities and laughs. Jurgen had to stop being a participant due to the fact that he was developing red and itchy skin, a previously undiscovered allergic reaction to the materials, while Roger had to pull out due to deteriorating health.

The best that Konrad was able to pull off was a clown, but that in itself wasn't exactly something that was hard to do.

Konrad was about to call the whole thing off when he had struck gold with a Ukraine-based effects company. A small group with some talent, they proved to be the ideal candidate, willing to work at a much lower figure than Konrad was fully prepared to pay.

Score one for Team Sabrewulf.

On the other hand, however, matters at the Sabrewulf estate continue to grow complicated and troubled. There was an uncanny and an increasingly oppressive air surrounding the castle, something that everyone living there became all-too aware of.

Although sound proofing had been finally implemented and the creature was tied down tightly, that didn't stop Spinal from being a nuisance. Konrad had been experiencing horrible nightmares, the likes of which he never wanted to mention to Jurgen. Often in the dead of night he would hear footsteps and Spinal's distinctive cackle somewhere out on the roof or in the hallway just outside his door, sometimes in the walls.

Some times Spinal would just loom over him while he lied there on the bed.

The worst were the bodies or body parts.

When Konrad awoke one morning, the first thing he had noticed was an odor.

Opening his eyes, he let out a startled scream, causing Dieter and Jurgen to burst into his room and recoil with horror.

Around the bed were five bodies that were either gruesomely flayed or disemboweled, suspended in the air with ropes and poised like obscene marionette dancers, with countless arms, limbs and offal piled indelicately on counters.

None of them had any heads. It was an awful experience that took countless hours to clean. Dieter had gotten rid of the bodies, though he made no mention where or how, nor had Konrad felt like inquiring any further about that.

Instead, his focus was more on other matters such as whose bodies they had belonged to. A thorough search and headcount of household staff revealed no missing servant or guard, nor were there any news items about missing persons, further deepening the mystery. Since then, Konrad and the others kept their eyes and ears open.

Further attempts at communication revealed that the creature knew thousands of languages, notably Swedish, Japanese, Spanish, Hebrew, and Italian along with numerous dead languages such as Aramaic, Latin, Nubian, Chane, Akkadian, Egyptian, Acroa, Numidian, Chorotega, Ba-Shu, Favorlang and so on, although the entity seemed incapable of forming complete dialogue in any one. A lot of it was just mindless incomprehensible gibberish, but more often than not the creature just made a series of grunts, squawks, roars and other abnormal noises.

Meanwhile, Ferris continued to be as charming and vitriolic as ever.

Researchers were growing increasingly restless and uneasy, especially in the midst of the nonstop vile threats that he uttered.

Several of them had threatened to quit.

Others reported suffering from dizzy spells, fainting, tanning, heat exhaustion and heat stroke, forcing Konrad to build a specially designed hallway with a lead-lined, shock and heat proof chamber all the way down at the end to put them at ease, complete with sound proofing so that Ferris' disgusting voice could be drowned out.

More complications arose with Ferris than with Spinal, surprisingly; whatever transformation the mercenary had undergone had granted him abilities that no one was able to account for, including the ability to emit large pillars of fire, flight, enhanced strength as well as turning himself into a flying fireball.

Even more, Ferris was somehow able to bend light, rendering himself practically invisible to the human eye, as well as phase through walls, making him a nightmare to contain. Several had been either injured or killed in their efforts to prevent his multiple escapes.

Research into his organic composition revealed that his entire being was encapsulated beneath a fiery plasma that occasionally emitted orange ribbons like solar flares.

Beneath this plasma was a thin translucent "skin" that both protected and sustained the rest of the body, although it seemed to be in a state of nonstop decay and regeneration all at the same time. All the fat within Ferris' body had shrivelled into an emaciated frame underneath. Due to the self-sustaining nature of his condition, the mercenary had no need to use a washroom or to eat; in theory, it's possible that he could live for a _very_ long time. Plans were underway to develop a protective suit and mask to keep him stable.

Further complications arose in Gupte's lab.

* * *

"I'm sorry, Herr Baron, but there is nothing more I can do."

Konrad stared at Gupte.

"But surely there must be something that can be done!" he insisted. "Couldn't you treat my condition in the same way one treats Sickle Cell Anemia?"

Gupte shook her head.

"I'm afraid it's not as simple as that, Herr Baron," she said. "If your file had been made accessible to the rest of the Medical Community our chances of finding other options would have been much better, but given our current situation...again, there's only so much I can do."

The aristocrat tightened his fist. Damn it.

"I wish that I had better news."

"So do I," growled Konrad.

The door to Gupte's office flung open.

"Schneider, what the hell is the matter with you?!" Gupte demanded. "Can't you see I'm busy with someone important?!"

"I'm sorry, Herr Doctor, but we have a situation," Schneider said. "The creature in the dungeon is acting strangely!"

Getting up from her chair, Gupte followed him out the door along with Konrad and Jurgen. When they approached the cell door, Konrad watched as they peered inside, then stood up to see what the fuss was all about.

Lying on the floor with rotting skin, the cobra had curled itself into a ball. Beneath the hood, tiny shriveled arms trembled while further down its tail were a pair of thin pink legs. The creature thrashed its tail about violently and started to writhe.

"What is happening to it?" Jurgen asked.

"I think it's going through death throes," Gupte replied. "The change to its body must be too much for it to handle. It'll be only a matter of time before it stops completely."

Watching the creature convulse on the floor sickened Konrad. "Can someone just get in there and kill the damn thing already?"

"I wouldn't recommend it, Herr Baron, it's fourteen feet long. A person could get hurt."

The creature banged mindlessly against the floor and wall.

Konrad growled.

"Ahh, fuck this," he said as he got out his cellphone. "Dieter, I'm by the downstairs cell. Get your ass down here."

* * *

When Dieter and Roger arrived, Konrad waved them over.

"What's going on?" the former asked.

"The creature you transported here is dying," he simply said.

Dieter shrugged. "Not my fault."

"Nein, I didn't say it was," Konrad said. "The problem, however, is that the creature isn't dying quickly enough. So, I want you and Roger to get in there and put it out of its misery."

Roger blanched at the proposal.

"You have got to be kidding."

"I wish I were." Came the grave response.

Dieter shook his head.

"Fuck," he said. Taking in a deep breath, he exhaled, then nodded. "Alright, let's get this over with."

Taking out his Beretta, he nodded to Schneider, who then got out the keys for the cell door and unlocked it. Throwing the door open, the researcher backed away quickly, making room for both bodyguards as they stepped through.

Dieter studied the creature. It was much bigger than he remembered. He also didn't remember it having legs.

He gave a questioning glance in Konrad's direction.

The Baron's only response was a shrug.

Raising his sidearm, Dieter stepped to the twitching and convulsing serpentine mess, then glanced about the cell.

He had to be careful where he fired, otherwise the shot could ricochet and someone could get hurt.

The best way to properly do this, he reckoned, was by doing it low and aiming the weapon up toward the ceiling next to its eye or in its mouth, thereby blowing its brains out. It'll be messy, but less chance of there being collateral damage. Currently, the creature was lying on its back, its belly up in the air.

Dieter took a slow and cautious step forward when the creature rolled back onto its belly, facing the wall opposite him. The snake's body started to ripple.

He watched as all the bones and muscles started to restructure themselves beneath its skin, all of it just as awful to see as it was to listen to.

Every reconfiguration of bone was accompanied by an audible pop and crack, every reformation of muscle by a squelch.

As the creature changed and expanded, it urinated, producing an unholy stench that made Dieter's eyes water and Roger give looks of disgust.

It then started to shit, releasing a foul black oily substance all over the floor.

A new sound accompanied the horrible noises as the creature's skin started to violently tear itself apart.

The tiny shrivelled arms that hung beneath the "hood" have now become massive, powerful arms with huge biceps and deltoids while the legs became more muscular.

Pushing itself off the floor, the creature shakily rose up on its newly formed legs onto its tiptoes, towering over the two bodyguards, its tail flicking around in the air, waving off dead skin around the room, causing both men to duck and stare in horrified wonder.

Dieter watched as the musculature on its back rippled, stiffened and tore violently through its dead skin.

Staring up at the ceiling with its mouth open, trembling all over, the creature suddenly elicited a loud, guttural roar with its newly formed lungs and vocals that made the bodyguards flinch.

It was a deafening and unearthly sound, like the squawk of a parrot and nails on a chalkboard played through a filter.

Lowering down its head, the creature shook itself like a dog, tossing free all of its remaining skin everywhere, pelting every corner and direction, including the bodyguards as they tried covering their eyes. Looking disgustedly at the dead skin around him, Dieter couldn't help but be reminded of caterpillar cocoons.

 _'I wish that this had been just some goddamn butterfly,'_ he thought grimly. Just a nice, friendly beautiful butterfly.

Unfortunately, that was _not_ what he was staring at.

Orange in color with black stripes on its back and a yellow undersection, the creature was tall, a whopping seven footer that stood on its tiptoes, kind of like a dog. Proportionally, it was very humanoid, with a robust, heavily muscled torso, a very slim waist and sturdy muscular legs. The creature had retained its serpentine features, including its cobra hood, but the hood itself hung over the shoulders like a pair of wings or like a protective shell. In fact, the entire back itself seemed to have become a sort of scaly, heavily muscled and armored shell. The most human feature of the thing were its arms and hands; despite having only three fingers on each hand excluding an opposable thumb and having huge talons at the end of each digit, they looked remarkably human. Disturbingly human.

And incredibly strong-looking - Dieter could easily imagine those arms and hands crushing someone or something in their grasp.

The worst feature were the feet of the damn thing - on each of the beast's four toes, including its dewclaw, were four enormous sickle-like talons. It was as if Freddy Krueger decided to build himself a dinosaur and this monstrosity was the result.

 _'Fuck, that is what this thing has become!'_ Dieter thought. A fucking dinosaur.

Completing the overall package, a long tail with a curiously sharp stinger at the end swished around behind the creature, sometimes hanging directly over itself, reminding Dieter of a scorpion.

As the creature lowered down its serpentine head, a forked tongue slipped out and flickered periodically as it nuzzled the dead skin, sniffing.

To his disgust, the creature then started to eat it, munching and crunching loudly.

Looking to Roger, Dieter gestured with his eyebrows that it was time to leave. Backing out slowly, carefully avoiding any sort of noise, the bodyguards took their time and got out from the room. Grabbing the cell door, both men tried to push it back. A squeaky hinge made Dieter's heart stop, causing the creature to halt.

With all pretense of stealth dropped, the bodyguards slammed the door into its frame. No sooner had they closed it when the reptilian creature gave a guttural roar and slammed back with a bang, knocking both men off their feet.

"RUN! EVERONE OUT!" Dieter yelled as he and Michael hastily pushed themselves up and scurried away. "EVERYONE, GET THE FUCK OUT OF HERE!"

"SCHNELL! SCHNELL!"

* * *

"Mein Gott!" Konrad said.

"Herr Baron, we must get you out here," Jurgen said as he tried wheeling him away.

Konrad watched as the beast smashed its way through the door.

Researchers gave startled screams and were running for their lives as it charged after them, with personnel dropping clipboards containing notes, beakers, sensitive equipment, even test animals as it pursued them through the hallway, with some ducking behind closed doors. From the other end of the long hallway, an animal handler ran up to the creature with a long rod-like control pole with a noose at the end, jabbing and yelling in its direction as it ducked back, snapping with its jaws at the noose while another handler snuck up behind and lassoed it around the neck. Snarling, the creature turned to face him as the other handler hooked his pole around its neck. The men struggled violently to reign it in until they both were suddenly whisked right off off their feet as it reared itself back, throwing them aside as if they were mere toys. Clawing off the nooses, it stepped toward them hungrily.

"HEY! HEY!" Dieter yelled, waving his arms at it. "HEY FUCKFACE! OVER HERE!"

Turning its ugly snake head to face him, the creature roared at him, revealing a series of sharp teeth along with a huge pair of viper-like fangs that dripped with venom.

"Jesus," the bodyguard blanched. Discharging his sidearm at the creature, Dieter bolted, narrowly avoiding having a chunk taken out from him by the animal.

"GET ME A TRANQUILIZER GUN AND FIVE HUNDRED MILLILITERS OF THORAZINE!" Gupte yelled to some researchers.

Hearing her, the beast turned in their direction, then looked directly at Konrad. With four great strides it lunged toward the wheelchair bound figure just as he pushed his butler away. Grabbing hold of the beast's hungrily snapping jaws, Konrad threw the creature back with every bit of strength that he could muster back to the cell door, causing it to stumble back.

Standing up from his seat, Konrad peeled off his cloak as everyone murmured around him.

The beast gave a challenging growling hiss, baring its viper fangs, pawing the ground, producing sparks as its claws scraped noisily against it.

Konrad bared his own and roared back defiantly.

The two charged one another, colliding together as Konrad tackled the beast into the cell, knocking both opponents off their feet.

Rolling around along the floor in a frenzy, Konrad tried to maintain dominance over it, but the creature beneath him was a good three hundred pounds heavier and stronger than he was, knocking him off balance as it climbed on top.

Dodging to the side as it tried to bite him, the aristocrat grabbed a shackle that was chained to the wall and latched it onto one of the beast's arms.

The creature tried slashing at him with the shackled claw, only to be pulled back.

Looking down at the chained limb, it started to scratch, claw and gnaw at the manacle like a captured coyote.

Using its distractedness as an opportunity, Konrad latched on the second manacle onto the other limb.

The beast struggled furiously in its bindings, letting out an infuriated roar, then darted its head down at him. Konrad grabbed its snapping bestial jaws, scowling as its hot acrid breath huffed into his face and as saliva and venom oozed down next him. Curling himself into a fetal position while he was on his back, he planted his feet onto the creature's ribs, then pushed it off with as much power as he could afford, tossing it back.

Rolling away, Konrad scrambled quickly to his feet when something latched itself around his neck.

"HERR BARON!" Jurgen yelled.

Gasping, Konrad struggled for air, his eyes bulging as his clawed hands tried to pry the long tail off as it coiled around his throat.

The creature was slowly dragging him back toward it when Dieter, Jurgen and Roger grabbed hold, trying to unravel it from Konrad.

"GET THE DAMN THING OFF HIS NECK, IT'S SUFFOCATING HIM!" Jurgen yelled. "ROGER, KILL THIS FUCKING THING ALREADY!"

"Got it."

The bodyguard raised his sidearm when the creature spat at him. Crying out, the bodyguard stumbled away.

"MY EYES! OH GOD IT BURNS!"

"TAKE HIM TO THE SHOWERS!" Gupte yelled to other researchers as she readied the tranquilizer gun. Aiming carefully, she steadied herself, then pulled the trigger. There came a muffled puff as a dart lodged itself into the creature's neck. Rearing up its head, it roared in surprise.

Konrad continued to struggle helplessly in its grip as it reeled him in like a fish caught on a hook.

"It's not working!" Dieter said.

"I can see that, thank you!" Gupte retorted as she loaded in another dart.

"HIT IT AGAIN!" Jurgen yelled.

There came another muffled puff, this time, an identical twin dart wedged itself just right beside its sibling.

The creature continued unperturbed.

Konrad wheezed.

"WHY WON'T THIS FUCKER GO DOWN?!" Dieter yelled.

"For fuck's sake," Gupte said as she reloaded another.

Another dart appeared. It only slowed slightly. Konrad felt his face turning blue beneath his fur.

"HE'S LOSING AIR! SCHNELL, DIETER, SCHNELL! HELP GET IT OFF!"

Konrad was starting to lose consciousness.

"STAY AWAKE, HERR BARON! WE'RE ALMOST FINISHED!"

"SHOOT IT!" Dieter yelled.

"What do you think I'm trying to do, you fucking moron?!"

Another dart appeared, followed by another, and another, and another, and another. By the time it collapsed unconscious onto the floor, it had over a dozen darts protruding out from its body. Once Jurgen and Dieter finished unravelling its tail, Konrad took in a sharp breath of air, gasping and coughing.

"Are you okay, Herr Baron?" The butler asked concernedly.

Nodding, the aristocrat wheezed and coughed for a while, then took long, slow, deep breaths. Looking at the researchers outside, his eyes narrowed at a particular individual. Pushing himself off the floor, he stormed angrily toward him.

"Herr Baron?" Jurgen said, puzzled.

Konrad continued toward the researcher, watching as his colleagues shrank away from him. Snatching the cellphone from his hand, he violently smashed it down onto the floor.

"What the- MY PHONE!" The man yelled as it was stomped into ruin.

Once he finished, Konrad lifted up his head, his gaze meeting the man's.

"How many times do you people need to be told?!" He growled. "NO! CELLPHONES! ALLOWED! There is no streaming! There is no Facebook! There is no Twitter, Tumblr, or any social media allowed on these premises, especially when you are at work! Article Two of your contract specifically states this. You are supposed to be a professional, so fucking act like it! Failure to comply will result in immediate termination, dismissal without pay and a lawsuit filed against you. Do you understand?"

The man stared at him, his face pale.

"DO YOU UNDERSTAND?!"

He nodded vigorously.

"You better. There won't be any next time. You saw nothing of this, nor will you mention it to anyone outside."

Konrad then looked around the room.

"The same applies to everyone of you."

Turning around, he marched angrily to his wheelchair. Once he finished putting on his cloak, he settled back into his seat as he was joined by Jurgen, Dieter and Gupte.

"Thank you for saving my life," Konrad said gratefully. "You especially, Herr Doctor."

She nodded.

"Now, Dieter, if you'd be so kind as to finish the job," he said.

The bodyguard turned around was about to comply when Gupte blocked his path.

"Wait!"

Konrad stared at her.

"Herr Doctor, what are you doing?" he said. "Let him through."

She looked around.

"Come with me to my office," she said quietly. "Let's talk there."

The trio followed after her. Konrad cast one nervous glance to the closed cell, listening as the creature slept. Closing the office door behind them, he looked expectantly at her.

"Well?"

She sighed.

"I'm sorry, Herr Baron, but I must protest against this," Gupte said. "I want it alive."

"Absolutely out of the question." Konrad said.

"Herr Baron, please! I need it for further analysis."

He scowled.

"Herr Doctor," he said slowly, "the animal is far too dangerous to be kept here. We're lucky no one was killed by it."

"But the animal has been contained, Herr Baron."

"And what if it gets out again?!" he demanded. "Look at it, Gupte. It is not the same as it was before. It has become faster, stronger, and larger, with an appetite to boot. What if it breaks loose and eats someone?!"

"I will make sure that proper precautions are in place," Gupte promised. "You won't have to spend any money, it will be on my tab. I will take full responsibility for it."

"You will take full responsibility for it," he said doubtfully.

"Of course!"

"So, you are going to look after it. Tell me, how do you plan on feeding it? This is a large animal, Herr Doctor, and judging by its reaction it's going to need a lot of energy to be kept properly fed. What do you plan to do, give it the odd intern when no one is looking? If that's the case, then I recommend starting off with that cellphone-using dipshit you have out there."

"Herr Baron," she said sternly.

"Are you also going to be to cleaning up after it as well?" he pressed. "Large animals tend to shit, Herr Doctor, in case you have forgotten, and they create one hell of a stench when left unattended. Same with bathing."

She quietly digested his points.

"What if it mutates again, Herr Doctor? What if it becomes even bigger, grows five heads or wings?"

Gupte rolled her eyes.

"Don't be absurd," she said.

"Doc," Dieter spoke, "in case you haven't noticed, your snake turned into a friggin dinosaur. Absurd went sailing by a little while ago."

"It's not a dinosaur."

The bodyguard huffed.

"It's a big scary reptilian thing that walks on its hind legs like a human, that has claws, teeth, tail and an asshole - that doesn't make it a banana now, does it?!"

"What about medicine?" Konrad continued. "What if it becomes ill, gets parasites, or has a severe allergic reaction when it's inoculated against viral infection? You have the money, know-how and resources to ensure all of that?"

She stared hard at him. Konrad then leaned forward.

"What if it gets out again, this time killing everyone here? What if it kills or maims a child?"

Gupte hesitated.

"You have the resources to ensure that it not only remains sealed in but also the money to stave off potential lawsuits?"

She took off her glasses and pinched her nose, then sighed loudly.

"Nein," she conceded. "You're right, Herr Baron, I don't have enough of either. But you do."

"And why would I want it alive?"

"Herr Baron, these mutations present a tremendous opportunity for us," she said. "For you especially. We might be able to find a clue for a possible cure through studying it."

"Are you just saying that, or do you know for a fact?"

"I don't know for certain," she said. "But as you had pointed out, we cannot rule out any possibilities at this point without checking all avenues."

Konrad quietly looked around, his head lowered thoughtfully.

"Fine."

A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," Gupte said as a female researcher entered.

"I'm afraid I have some bad news," she said.

"What is it?" Konrad said.

"Your friend has been badly burned by the creature's spit and is in critical condition."

"Ah nein."

"I'm sorry, Herr Baron, but I need to deal with this," Gupte said as she followed after the other researcher.

"I want to see him."

"You'll get the chance to see him after we're finished tending to his wounds. You'll only get in the way."

As she exited the door, Konrad looked over his shoulder.

"Get me the hell out of here, Jurgen."

"Jawohl."

* * *

Konrad sipped from his glass of sherry at the dining room table while Dieter smoked.

"Well, Herr Baron, it looks like we have another guest to take care of," Jurgen said dryly.

He scowled.

"Yes, thank you, Jurgen. I'm quite aware of our predicament," Konrad replied.

"Five bucks says the next creature to appear at our doorstep is a vampire," joked Dieter.

"Don't even say such a thing!" Konrad scolded. "With my luck that might just happen."

"If more start to appear," the bodyguard said, "it's going to get awfully crowded in here."

"Ja, I'm quite aware of that."

"So what do you think we should do about it?" Dieter asked.

"Gupte is adamant on keeping the damn thing."

"But what about after she finishes studying it?"

"Killing it would be the obvious answer," Konrad said. "There's one problem, though."

"And what's that?"

"Disposing of the body."

The bodyguard nodded.

"Just leave it to me, Baron. It'll be a synch."

* * *

Dieter was forced to eat crow as time went by.

Various efforts to kill the creature resulted in failure.

Whatever sort of evolution or mutation the animal had undergone made it _extremely_ difficult, almost impossible, to kill. Not only was its skin thick and dense, but the creature had an adaptive regenerative ability that allowed it to develop resistance or immunity to whatever sort of trauma or ailment it had before, even going so far as to resurrect it back from the dead, amazingly enough. The first time this was discovered, six people ended up getting killed before the damn thing was finally subdued and returned back to its cell. Not even freezing temperatures had any sort of effect.

Further studies revealed other troubling news.

* * *

Jurgen and Dieter rolled Konrad into Gupte's office.

"You wanted to see us," Konrad said.

The doctor nodded.

"I finished examining the animal," she said. "You won't have to worry about it mutating further or getting five heads or wings as you had feared. Plus, I think I now have a plausible explanation for your condition, Herr Baron."

"I'm listening," he replied.

"I believe that your condition is the result of a retrovirus," she explained. "A retrovirus, in case you don't know, is a type of RNA virus that inserts a copy of its genome into the DNA of a host cell that it invades, thus changing the genome of that cell. Unlike a regular virus, they contain an enzyme called reverse transcriptase, which gives them the unique property of transcribing their RNA into DNA after entering a cell."

"If my condition is the result of a virus-"

 _"Retrovirus,"_ she corrected.

"Retrovirus, then why is it that people aren't infected by me?"

"It's not so unusual, Herr Baron," Gupte said. "Certain retroviruses tend to be passed on through inheritance after infecting human cells. In your case, Herr Baron, it's unique. It is my belief that this particular retrovirus strain had not only transferred genetic material from its host, a wolf, onto one of your ancestors, but it had been passed down through your family for so long that those features that once made it viral in the first place have long become inert, possibly bred out with each successive generation."

"That could explain why the Baron doesn't infect anyone through bites or scratches," Dieter said.

"Does this mean that it's curable?" Konrad asked.

"It's possible, but unlikely," she answered regretfully.

He sighed.

"Damn."

* * *

Another complication with the animal came a few weeks later.

It had started with a phone call.

Answering his cell phone, Konrad heard Dieter's voice at the other end.

"Sir, we have a problem."

* * *

When Konrad entered Gupte's office with Jurgen, he saw Dieter and the doctor huddled over something. Moving away to make room for him, the Baron's stomach churned at what he saw.

Nestled on a sweater were five leathery round elliptical objects.

He stared at them.

"Tell me those aren't what I think they are," Konrad said.

"I'm afraid they are," Gupte replied.

"But how?!" he demanded.

"What do you think, Doc?" Dieter asked. "Could the snake have been pregnant before its mutation?"

The doctor shook her head.

"Nein," she said. "That's impossible. All of the cobras were female. We made sure of that."

"Then how did this happen?" Dieter asked.

She took off her glasses and wiped them with a cloth.

"Certain animal species are known to parthenogenetically reproduce," she explained. "Frogs, lizards, certain species of sharks, insects-"

"Snakes?" Konrad interjected.

"Nein," she said.

"Then how?!"

"Obviously it's another unintended side-effect of your condition in another host body."

Konrad quietly stared at the eggs with loathing.

"I want these fucking things destroyed as soon as possible."

"Herr Baron-" Gupte protested.

"NEIN!" Konrad snapped. "You have one creature for study. I will not have this house be a breeding ground for monsters. Dieter, take these to the incinerator and make sure it's on the highest possible setting. I don't want any traces of them anywhere."

"Yes sir." the bodyguard said as he grabbed hold of the eggs and carried them off.

* * *

The worst discovery about the animal came the next day.

When he, Jurgen and Dieter entered Gupte's office, the scientist had a grave expression on her face.

"What is this about?" Jurgen asked.

Gupte sighed.

"I'm afraid I have some more bad news, Herr Baron," she said. "It concerns the animal in the cell."

Konrad regarded her apprehensively.

"The creature?" he said. "What is it? Has it gotten loose? Have more been killed?"

"Nein, nein," she said. "Studies on it yielded some rather interesting results. Not only is its spit highly acidic, able to burn straight through materials the longer it continues spewing, but its venom has become extremely potent, with new never before seen proteins. Even more, injuries sustained from the creature's claws proved to have a strange and detrimental effect on those afflicted."

He studied her carefully.

"What do you mean?"

Gupte stood up from her desk.

"You better come with me and see for yourself, Herr Baron."

* * *

Konrad stared at the crouched figure on the ground, then shut the hatch on the cell in revulsion.

"What happened to him?" he demanded while facing the door. "What the hell did you do to Roger?!"

"It's not what _I_ did, Herr Baron," Gupte said. "Rather, it's what your condition has done. I found him eating mice in one of the labs one day. He's been physically and mentally degrading rapidly ever since. There's barely anything left of him."

"You said that my condition wasn't infectious!"

"It isn't," she said, "but by transferring your condition onto _another_ host species, it would seem that not only had the retrovirus inserted _human_ genes into the creature's genome, but it also had activated those infectious traits that had long been suppressed or dormant."

"But I myself had been scratched by it," Konrad said. "Why aren't I turning?"

"I think because you're the originator, the retrovirus has given you an immunity of sorts," Gupte answered.

Konrad shook his head.

"Small comfort," he said

Despite not being infectious himself like in those shitty horror movies, it was through him, albeit indirectly, that that particular cliché had ended up becoming a reality. He was bitterly aware of the irony. Roger deserved better than this.

"Dieter," he spoke at last.

"Yes, Baron."

"Do what needs to be done."

The bodyguard gravely nodded as he opened the cell door and reached into his coat.

"How sure are you about this?" Konrad asked, not turning away for a moment.

"I'll need to run further tests," she said. "With your permission, Herr Baron, I'd like to inject other species to confirm-"

"Absolutely not!" Konrad snapped.

A shot rang out. When Dieter returned, he looked down at himself and at his shoes, buttoning up his coat as he left the cell.

"It's done," he said.

"I want you three to leave me alone for a moment," Konrad ordered.

"Why-"

"Just do it."

As Jurgen, Dieter and Gupte walked away, Konrad continued staring into the cell. His shoulders sagging, he regarded its occupant pityingly, then gave a respectful and sorrowful nod in silence.

* * *

Later that evening, the men sat at the dining room table, not saying a word to each other. Konrad took a long gulp of red wine, then refilled his glass. Jurgen made no effort to chastise him. Meanwhile, Dieter quietly smoked his cigarette, the fumes trailing off around him as the clock noisily counted down the hours to midnight.

"...Things are getting out of hand, Herr Baron." Jurgen spoke finally.

"Ja, thank you, Jurgen!" Konrad growled from his seat in the dining room as he took another glass of wine.

"And what do you intend to do about it?" Dieter demanded.

"If any of you have suggestions, now is the time to speak. I'm all ears for any possible solutions."

All three men fell silent.

"Open up a theme park?" Dieter said from across the table.

"Be serious."

"Okay, okay," the bodyguard replied, his brow curled in thought. "Hm, this is a tough one. You could donate it to a zoo."

"Now you're being stupid."

"I'm not!"

"Dieter," Konrad said in a restrained tone, "do you honestly believe that any zoo out there is just going to take a dinosaur without asking questions?!"

"You could just tell them that it's something found by one of your subsidiaries in Africa or South America."

"At which point I'd be accused of wildlife smuggling and have Interpol along with other counter groups such as the Coalition Against Wildlife Trafficking on my ass," Konrad argued.

"Maybe it wouldn't have to be a zoo," Jurgen said. "Do you remember that South African gentleman you met at one of those charity events years ago? The one that had his own private game reserve in Kenya?"

Konrad strained his mind trying to remember who it was the butler described.

"Ahh, I remember him," Konrad said. "Ferguson. Arrogant oaf of a man and a shit. I'd rather be in conversation with Spinal than that half-wit."

"What about Lord Godfrey from Australia? He's a renowned fanatic of animals with his own private zoo. I heard that he's always searching for new species to add to his collection."

"And illegally, or so the rumor goes."

"Now's not the time to be picky," Dieter said matter of factly.

"I can afford to be, especially when said-man had been suspected of financing terrorist organizations and rebel insurgencies in different countries."

"What about that tycoon from Texas, Sheridan?" Jurgen said. "You're friends with him, Herr Baron."

"Same problems as before, plus there's still the issue of the animal infecting people."

"How about just release it into the wild?"

"Are you insane?!" Konrad roared. "I'm not going to do that!"

"No! Not here!" Dieter said. "I mean like in South America or Africa or wherever."

"And have it eat or infect some villager that has the misfortune of coming across it? I don't think so. A dinosaur running amok in Africa is bound to make headlines!"

"Wouldn't be the first time."

"I beg your pardon?" Jurgen said.

"In the Congo region there were reports of a brontosaurus. Locals called it Mokele...mokele..." Dieter frowned. "I don't know what the actual name is."

"As interesting as that sounds, how do you propose transporting the animal and releasing it without anyone noticing and getting hurt, let alone killed?"

The bodyguard opened his mouth, then paused.

"Damn."

"You could always dump it off on some remote uninhabited island," Jurgen said.

Konrad nodded.

"That definitely could work," he said. "The problem with that, however, is not only finding a suitable site, but also finding a reason and opportunity for travelling to that region in the first place. I'm pretty sure that the Board members and accountants would be puzzled. Even more, there's still the issue of transporting the damn animal unnoticed."

"It shouldn't be a problem," Dieter said. "All we'd have to do is just drug it."

"That's assuming there's a drug powerful enough to keep it down. Even more, I'm worried about it infecting other animals, even people should they stumble across it."

Jurgen leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. "What about...sealing up the creature in a steel container and dumping it in the deepest ocean trench? It along with Spinal, the mask and Ferris?"

The aristocrat tilted his chin.

"That's not a bad idea," he admitted. "Very tempting, but there are so many ways that could go wrong. Potential discovery is a major issue. I highly doubt airport security are going to allow the containers to go through unchecked."

"You could always bribe them." Dieter pointed out.

"Which in turn would make Herr Baron vulnerable to blackmail and/or prison." Jurgen countered disapprovingly.

"Even more," Konrad continued, "there's a very strong possibility of their being stolen. Hell, people could mistakenly ship them to the wrong destination and in so doing unwittingly release them."

"Even if they get lost en route or stolen," Dieter said, "so what? Why not let someone else deal with them?"

"So what?!" Konrad repeated. "Dieter, people could get _killed_! If someone dies due to Ferris' homicidal rage, Spinal's bloodlust, or that animal's appetite, the police will be called in asking very uncomfortable questions and in turn trace their way back to this house!"

"Baron," the bodyguard said pointedly, "do you want to get rid of these things or not?"

"You know I do, Dieter, but I am not going to let people die as a result!"

"Suppose that everything ran smoothly," Dieter said.

"Dieter-"

"Just suppose," Dieter cut him off. "Suppose that during their transport I were to go along and supervise the whole thing. Would that bring some peace of mind?"

"To an extent it would," Konrad said.

"You doubt my ability? My loyalty?"

"You know I don't, Dieter," Konrad said. "Your talents are without question, of that there is no doubt."

"So what's the problem?"

"Other factors. Suppose that everything does go according to plan. We dump the creatures into the deepest oceanic trench. Can we be _absolutely certain_ that _no one_ would be present? Can we be sure that no one would find the containers, return them back to the surface or open them? How long would it be until someone stumbles upon them?"

"Baron."

"Just hear me out for a moment," Konrad insisted. "Gupte's animal probably wouldn't survive the pressure or the cold temperatures of the ocean. However, Spinal doesn't have lungs, and his shield feeds on anything that makes contact with it. And then, of course, there's Ferris. Can the cold drown him, if not keep his temperature down? What if the pressure makes him implode? If he dies, he could either irradiate the water, killing off entire species of marine life and habitats, or he could go supernova and take out the fucking planet!"

The three men quietly digested the facts.

"Okay," Jurgen said, "so we don't include Ferris in the plan. It's still manageable."

"But again, there's still the question of opportunity, witnesses, costs, and potential discovery."

"There must be a way to get rid of these goddamn things," Jurgen said.

"Well, unfortunately, there isn't," Konrad replied.

"I refuse to believe that. There must be some way of dealing with them!"

"If I had my druthers, I'd put them on a rocket and send them both into the sun. Can't do that now, can we?"

A gleam shined in Dieter's eyes.

"Actually Baron, yes you can!"


	11. Chapter Ten: Genesis

**Disclaimer: KILLER INSTINCT is a property belonging to Rare and Microsoft and "The Wolf Man" is a property belonging to Universal Studios. I do not own any of these characters.**

 ***Song: "Humiliation" - Killer Instinct Soundtrack** ( watch?v=aFqhc5dAC_A)

 **Chapter Ten: Genesis**

 ** _"We could not understand because we were too far and could not remember, because we were travelling in the night of first ages, of those ages that are gone, leaving hardly a sign — and no memories. The earth seemed unearthly. We are accustomed to look upon the shackled form of a conquered monster, but there — there you could look at a thing monstrous and free." - "_** Heart of Darkness" by Joseph Conrad

The hallway was unusually quiet.

As he was rolled toward the titanium door at the end, Konrad anxiously watched and listened. Although the hallway had been equipped with sensors and was kept at freezing temperatures, cold enough to make even Konrad himself shiver, he always felt apprehensive and alert whenever he came here. Beside him, Jurgen, Dieter and several researchers carrying fire extinguishers suspiciously eyed their surroundings, a few flinching at the slightest shadow. From behind the titanium door, Konrad heard nothing but the unmistakable crackling and sizzling of the thing's body, the unnaturally loud, harsh, pain-filled heaving of its breath that was amplified and distorted by the heat. It made no effort in demonstrating its rage - Konrad could practically feel it emanating from the door itself, even with it being shock and heatproof.

"It's been a while, Ben," Dieter called.

Ferris didn't answer.

"Are you sure about this?" Konrad whispered.

"Just let me handle it," the bodyguard said softly.

He looked back to the door.

"Well? Are you going to say anything?"

Nothing.

"Getting enough exercise in there?"

There came a low, threatening infernal growl, a sound that made everyone carrying fire extinguishers on edge.

 **"Talk."**

 _'Christ, that voice!'_ Konrad thought. Even though months had gone by he could still never could get over how terrifying and horrible it sounded.

"Huh. I expected more," Dieter said.

 **"Yeah? Well fuck you."** Ferris said.

"Ahh, there's the Benny I know!"

 **"What do you want?"** The molten voice demanded impatiently.

Dieter tsked.

"Ben, Ben, Ben, of all the questions to ask, why did you have to ask that one? I'm disappointed," the bodyguard drawled. "I would have thought that would have been obvious by now given our history."

 **"Get to the fucking point!"** The creature snarled through grit teeth. **"Obviously you didn't come down here to check up on my health. That's what the geeks around here are for."**

"Alright, Ben, alright," Dieter said. "I have a job for you."

Konrad cringed as Ferris chuckled, a wretched and grotesque sound that reminded him of grating coals.

 **"A job,"** the voice repeated. **"Dieter, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly in any sort of condition to pull off anything."**

"Actually, Ben," Dieter said, "the thing is, your condition is precisely what's needed in this situation. We need you to destroy something."

 **"Ahh, so you want a little arson."**

"Of sorts."

 **"Why come to me? Plenty of third-rate losers around. Why not go to them?"**

"Because this particular item is problematic. Very problematic."

There was a moment of quiet contemplation. Konrad heard the flames brush against the door and a hiss, as if Ferris' body was leaning into it.

 **"Do tell."** Ferris said, his voice close enough to cause goosebumps to rise.

"My employer is having trouble with an artifact," Dieter said.

 **"Surprise, surprise."** Came the sardonic comment. **"So the Tiger freaks found their way to you, did they?"**

"Not at all. This isn't related to them. In fact it has nothing to do with the artifacts you recovered. It's a different one."

 **"And who's makin' trouble?** **I'd like to shake his or her hand.** **"** The mercenary sneered. **"Anyone who's working against the fat ferret is my kind of guy. Or gal."**

Konrad watched as Dieter paused as he tried finding the proper words.

"He-" the bodyguard cut himself off, then spoke again, "His name is Spinal."

 **"'Spinal'?"** Ferris repeated mockingly. **"What's his last name, Column?"**

"The only thing you need to know, Mr. Ferris," Konrad butted in, "is that he's an _extremely_ dangerous individual and that he's _very_ indiscriminate in terms of who or what he kills. He murdered seven thousand or so people in a single night. Men, women, children, animals...If you and he were to meet, he would not hesitate for a second."

The mention seemed to have perked the mercenary's curiosity and interest.

 **"Really? **"**** he said. **"Huh. I'm almost tempted to meet this dude face to face."**

"I highly advise against that, Mr. Ferris," Konrad said. "In fact that's _exactly_ the sort of thing we're trying to avoid right now. If you destroy this particular relic for us, Spinal will no longer be an obstacle."

 **"And if I refuse?"**

Konrad glowered at the door.

"Now isn't the time for games, Mr, Ferris," he said.

 **"Who said I was playing games?"** The infernal voice cooly replied. **"Maybe I want this Spinal fella to come. Maybe I wanna meet him."**

There was a long pause before he continued.

 **"But most of all,"** he said in a low voice, dripping acidly, **"I want to watch you burn. I want to have a first-row seat to your screams. I want to see you as your whole crumby little empire comes tumbling down all around in a pile of ashes."**

Konrad shook his head.

"It's a waste of time," he said. "He's not going to cooperate with us."

"Give me a chance, Baron," Dieter said. "Let me talk to him. Alone."

"Are you sure?"

The bodyguard nodded.

Waving the others back, Konrad receded, leaving him in front of the titanium door.

* * *

Dieter fidgeted with his lighter.

 **"Still there, D?"** Ferris hissed.

"You betcha," he answered.

 **"Don't know why. Nothing's gonna change, so you might as well piss off."**

"I can be persuasive."

 **"Yeah?"** The molten voice retorted. **"You have nothin' to offer me."**

"That's where you're wrong, Ben," Dieter said. "We are in a position to help you. The only thing stopping us from doing so is you."

 **"And how do you intend to help me?"**

"The eggheads want to construct a specialized suit and mask to help keep you stable."

 **"You think I don't know about that?!"** Ferris snapped. **"If you really want to help, let me die."**

There came a slight huff.

 **"Please."**

Dieter shook his head.

"You know I can't do that," he said.

 **"Then get the fuck out of here,"** Ferris said.

The bodyguard turned away, then halted mid-step.

"By the way," he said, "congratulations."

 **"What are you talking about?"**

"One of the chicks you banged showed up at the bar lookin' for ya," Dieter answered. "You're going to be a father."

There was a long, stunned moment of silence before the infernal voice spoke again.

 **"Which girl is it?"**

Dieter smirked.

"Oh? So you do care," he said.

 **"WHO IS IT?!"** Ferris yelled.

"Some college chick with blonde hair."

Ferris was completely speechless.

"Yeah, hard to believe, huh?" Dieter said. "Never figured you for a father."

When he failed to respond again, the bodyguard became annoyed.

"So how about it, Benny?" he said. "You help us with this little problem and we'll help you with yours. Do we have a deal?"

There was a long, sharp intake of breath from the other side of the door, followed by a full chested growl.

 **"Like I have a fuckin' choice,"** Ferris said.

Dieter smiled.

"Excellent!" he replied as he waved back to the Baron and the others.

"So he's agreed to do it, then?" the former asked.

"Yep."

"What did you say?" Jurgen asked.

"I just used a little persuasion," the bodyguard said with a shrug. "The mask, please?"

Pulling it from his cloak, Konrad handed the object to him.

"Get the extinguishers ready just in case," Dieter said to the researchers, then to another. "Open the door."

The man hesitated.

"But-"

"Do it."

Giving a short sigh, he did as he was told, slid his key card into a slot then tapped onto a keypad on the wall. Motors whirred as the chamber opened, releasing hot air and thick fumes as Ferris stood there in all of his horrible incendiary glory. Konrad heard Jurgen's breathing quicken while the researchers around him anxiously eyed the fiery effigy, the nozzles of the extinguishers trembling in their hands.

 **"The item,"** Ferris barked harshly.

Dieter tossed the mask over to him. Catching it with one flaming hand, the entity studied it, then raised his head as the door began to close.

 **"HEY! What is this?!"** he demanded.

"Safety precautions, Mr. Ferris," Konrad said. "I don't want people to get hurt when you use your newfound abilities on it. Once the door finishes closing, you can go to work."

There came a distorted watery snarl.

 **"Fine."**

Once the door was entirely sealed, Konrad nodded to Dieter.

"Okay, Benny," the latter said, "let her rip."

At that moment, there was a sudden loud boom. Around its frame, Konrad saw a glowing orange hue surround the door.

A researcher kept careful watch on a nearby monitor.

"Temperature is steadily rising, Herr Baron," he said nervously.

"We expected it to," Konrad said.

After five minutes, the hue died down.

"Well, Ben, how about it?" Dieter called out. "Is it done?"

 **"Give me a moment,"** Ferris replied.

There came another thunderous whoosh, the hue glowing hotter and brighter around the door frame as he redoubled his efforts.

"Temperature pushing over a thousand degrees Celsius," the researcher warned.

Time counted down as the light became brighter and brighter.

"Two thousand degrees, Herr Baron."

Konrad shifted in his seat worriedly.

"How hot does it have be for the bloody thing to melt?" he said lowly.

He could now feel a faint heat emanating from behind the door.

"Herr Baron he's now over three thousand degrees!"

"Let him continue," the aristocrat said with determination.

"Herr Baron if he continues at this rate he'll burn straight through!"

"Just a little longer!"

Konrad felt his hands become sticky with sweat as the temperature continued to climb.

"The chamber can't tolerate much more of this!"

Dieter nervously looked at him.

"I'm calling this off," he said. "BENNY, STOP WHAT YOU'RE DOING IN THERE!"

 **"I CAN DO THIS!"**

"BEN, STOP! NOW!"

Konrad watched as the hue died down completely, then shivered as cold came back into the hallway.

"Well?" Dieter said expectantly.

 **"See for yourself."** Came the gruff response.

The bodyguard motioned to the researcher, then waited as the door opened, the extinguishers primed and ready.

A great sweltering heat flowed out from the chamber along with massive amounts of steam. Ferris stood there glaring at them, holding in one hand the mask. To Konrad's horror, it remained unscathed, giving no signs of ever having been exposed to such ghastly temperatures.

 **"No luck,"** Ferris said as he tossed it to their feet.

A researcher reached down to pick it up, then gave a sharp yelp as he quickly withdrew his hand. The others sprayed onto it while another shut the door and hastily locked it.

Once they finished, Dieter nodded.

"I'll make sure the girl is taken care of, Ben," he said. "I promise."

Ferris said nothing on the other side as they carefully picked up the mask and studied it.

"Let me see," Konrad ordered.

Handing it to him, he stared at the ugly thing in wonder.

"Impossible," Jurgen muttered.

"Indeed," Konrad said in agreement.

"Not even a damn scratch," Dieter said.

Konrad turned it over in his hand, feeling along the thing's edges for some sign of a mark made.

Nothing.

"What the fuck is it going to take to destroy this thing?!" he said in exasperation.

Dieter glanced at the researchers around them as they talked amongst themselves. Konrad took notice, then turned to them.

"None of are you to mention anything that you saw or heard here," he directed. "Is that understood?"

"Jawohl," they answered in unison.

"Let's go," Konrad said to Jurgen and Dieter.

* * *

Konrad sat at the dining room table, cutting into his salmon.

"So much for your bright idea," he said bitterly.

Dieter shrugged.

"It was worth a shot," he replied.

"And now we're back to square one!" Konrad snapped.

"Herr Baron, calm down," Jurgen said as he poured an orange juice for him. "We'll think of something."

The aristocrat shook his head doubtfully.

"I don't know, Jurgen," he said wearily. "I'm beginning to think we'll never be rid of these damn things."

Dieter tilted his head thoughtfully.

"You know," he said in reflection, "thinking about Gupte's beast, it would make for one heck of a weapon."

Konrad and Jurgen stared at him.

"What?" the bodyguard asked.

"I'll pretend that I didn't hear you say that," Konrad said.

"Oh come on, Baron," he said. "Surely the thought had never crossed your mind?"

"Not even once." he said as he took a bite from his plate and took a sip from his cup.

Dieter put his cigarette out into a nearby ashtray, huffing a plume of smoky vapor.

"Maybe you should."

"Dieter, are you bloody daft?" Jurgen asked.

"No, just thinking with my brain," the bodyguard said.

"Then you should know that what you're suggesting is not only illegal, but also immoral," the butler said disapprovingly.

"Is it, though?" Dieter queried. "The idea of using animals for military applications is nothing new. Humans have been using them for centuries. The Romans used elephants and pigs in their wars. We have used dogs, pigeons, dolphins, cats, rats...hell, DARPA has been doing stuff with insects."

"But we're not talking about a dog or a beetle here, Dieter - this is a large predatory animal. Animals in general aren't exactly ideal weapons given their unpredictable nature. The CIA's "Acoustic Kitty" project is one such example," Konrad countered.

"True, but given the presence of human genes in Gupte's beastie, in theory it's possible to domesticate it."

"And what if it isn't? Hm? Even though chimps are ninety percent genetically similar to humans, that in itself doesn't mean that they're easily tamed. Even more, this animal possessing human DNA is also likely to create controversy, especially considering it had been done without the permission of a national ethics panel. I can't imagine watchdog groups like Human Genetics Alert just letting this slide."

"Well, you could always file for one."

"For the last time, I will _not_ use this animal, nor will I _ever_ , sell it as a weapon."

"But Baron, this creature is a goldmine waiting to be tapped!"

"And a highly virulent one!" Konrad snapped. "Even if domestication isn't an issue, I'm more than certain that the Geneva Protocol wouldn't turn a blind eye to its ability to infect other species and not label it as some sort of bioweapon."

"Baron," Dieter said pointedly, "this creature is too good an opportunity to pass off! Imagine, a weapon that can hunt and infect the enemy, creating more like it."

"And what would we do with these extra creatures?!"

"Catch them," the bodyguard said simply.

"Catch them," Konrad repeated. "And those after them? And those after? And those after? The way I see it, that would be more than a financial headache!"

"Well, when too many become a problem you could have some sort of incendiary or explosive device implanted into some of them, thereby keeping them in check should there be too many."

"Oh that's a lovely idea!" Konrad said sarcastically. "Mail-order dinosaurs that are wired up with explosives! Every time a person has to make a call or press on their car alarm, pop goes a raptor! No possible way _that_ could go wrong!"

"Perhaps you could have a clean-up crew to liquidate them. Bomb them out after they did their work. Plenty of ways to handle it."

"And what if civilians get caught in the crossfire?! What if some child gets eaten live on television or worse transforms before horrified audiences?" Konrad demanded.

"Collateral damage is to be expected in warfare," Dieter said.

"Ja, but even I have enough sense to realize that public opinion can be used against us!"

"Well, you could always create PA ads or propaganda material to alleviate and address those concerns, maybe show how the good outweighs the bad."

"And where will it end, Dieter?!" Jurgen spat. "Suppose that everything goes according to plan and this is all approved. Where will it end?! People already have enough troubles in the world. Hatred for hatred, blades for blades, bullets for bullets, bombs for bombs, and now you are proposing to add another horror in the amphitheater of war, one that could lay foundations for future horrors."

"Everything has consequences," Dieter replied evenly. "Especially in doing nothing."

He straightened himself.

"The thing, Baron, is that you don't have a choice, unfortunately. The reality of your situation is that as long as Gupte's animal is still alive, eating, shitting and breeding, it's going to cost you house and home. You are having enough troubles just trying to find a cure. And that's not even going into the potential costs for Spinal, Ben or Glacius. Or in maintaining your home with all the labs, personnel and equipment. So, if I were you, I'd think long and hard about this before being dismissive."

Dieter rolled his neck.

"It's easy to get caught up in the bad, but who knows? Perhaps with this creature's introduction into the world it will help advance medicine and technology," he said.

Konrad sat there quietly, digesting his points.

"I will take your proposal under consideration," he said slowly, "but I have an alternative solution for this - we force the creatures to fight in the Killer Instinct tournament."

"Herr Baron, surely you can't be serious," Jurgen said.

"I am," Konrad affirmed. "We use the tournament as a way of hiding their existence. To the rest of the world, it will all be men in suits, CGI and special effects, and we will carefully tailor everything to show that to be as such. If they happen to escape and/or someone somehow catches footage of them, perhaps even deciding to post them online on sites such as YouTube, we can negate that by copyright-claiming their footage or by issuing a cease and desist. Meanwhile, the creatures will fight and kill each other, thereby allowing us to be finally be rid of these goddamn things once and for all, with no one being the wiser."

"And where will you get the equipment and the personnel to shoot this insane plan of yours?" Jurgen demanded. "Even more, _where_ are you going to shoot this? The arena collapsed, in case you had forgotten, destroying all the equipment there!"

"We'll buy a camera of our own and shoot and record it ourselves."

Jurgen stared at him, then shook his head.

"This is outrageous," he said. "You promised that Spinal wouldn't ever be allowed near the tournament."

"I know," Konrad said wearily, "but we don't have that many options, mein freund."

"I wholly object to this."

"If you have any ideas, Jurgen, then please, tell me!" Konrad pled. "I'm begging you. What should I do?"

"Dump the creatures into the deepest rock or ocean and just be done with them," Jurgen said firmly.

"You know I can't do that. You know of the risks behind that!"

"Just as I know of the risks behind what you're proposing. Everything comes with risk, Herr Baron. You of all people should know that."

"Jurgen, having them in the tournament will make monitoring them that much easier," Konrad reasoned. "We'll have more control of the situation."

"What you're proposing, Herr Baron, is obscene and barbaric," Jurgen said.

"I know that!" Konrad retorted. "But doing so has less chance of exposure and we can prevent further loss of life as opposed to just shipping them off and hoping that something doesn't go wrong!"

Jurgen stared at him quietly for a moment.

"Do what you feel is right, Herr Baron," he said at last. "Just don't compromise your soul."

Konrad gave him a slow nod as he picked up a forkful of salmon.

"I won't, Jurgen," he vowed. "I promise I won't."

* * *

"Camera's ready, Baron."

"Finally," Konrad said.

Gupte gave him a contemptuous and disgusted glance.

"I absolutely disapprove of this, Herr Baron," she said. "This is absolutely appalling."

"I know, Herr Doctor," he replied, "but hopefully this will just be the one time."

Konrad looked around the labs next to the cell. He had given orders for everyone within the labs to get clear so that he and Dieter did this uninterrupted and unseen. Satisfied that no one was around, he looked back to the bodyguard.

"Are you ready?"

"Hell no," Dieter replied.

"Open the door," Konrad said to Gupte.

"Nein."

He stared at her.

"I said, open the door."

"Do it yourself," Gupte said as she stormed off.

Konrad then looked in his bodyguard's direction.

"I'll do it," he said reluctantly.

Once he finished unlocking, he opened the cell door.

Inside, the creature lay coiled up like some sort of python, studying them. Beside it were a kiddy pool filled with dirty water and smatterings of dried blood on the walls and floor, the only thing that remained of the various goats and sheep that had been bought for it.

"Gaaw," Dieter winced, turning away in disgust and plugging his nose. "This thing fuckin' stinks!"

"I know it does," Konrad agreed, "but hopefully after this, it will be the last time we'll ever have to put up with this."

"Let's do this quickly, 'cause I don't know how much of the smell I can take," the bodyguard said as he wiped his eyes. "You have the artifact?"

Konrad answered by taking the mask out from his cloak.

"We'll still need to get Spinal down here."

"I'm going to try something."

"Try something?" Dieter repeated, puzzled. "What are you-"

"Just make sure the camera is ready for filming," Konrad said impatiently.

"Alright," Dieter said as he went to the mounted camera on a tripod. "Lights. Camera. Annnnnd...action."

A red light flickered on, indicating that it was recording.

Raising up the mask, Konrad stared ahead, visualizing where the creature should appear and how. In front of the two men, a shaft of green light erupted from the floor.

Dieter glanced up, startled.

"What the-"

"Keep quiet," Konrad whispered.

Inside the cell, the serpentine creature stirred, its slit eyes narrowing as it gave a low growling hiss in warning.

From the ether, a chillingly low disembodied voice spoke one word in invocation.

" _ **SSSSSSPIIIIIIIIIINNNNNNNAAAAAAAAALLLLLL!"**_

From the green inferno on the floor, a cutlass-wielding bony hand pushed up into the air as the rest of the creature emerged, its skeleton reconfiguring before the duo, roaring at the cell's captive. Inside, the serpent raised itself from the floor and roared back, baring its monstrous viper-like fangs in challenge.

"Kill it," Konrad commanded quietly.

Once that command had been given, Spinal took two jerky halting steps forward, then burst into a run on the third, maniacally laughing as he charged. The two creatures clashed violently with each other, the battle long and brutal as they wrestled each other for dominance, with Spinal repeatedly stabbing into the serpent and the serpent biting, clawing and spitting wildly at him before it was pushed back. Roaring in frustration at being confined by its manacles, the serpent launched itself into the air and curled itself into a ball, slamming itself down onto Spinal like a wrestler before springing back up like a kangaroo, its hind feet knocking the skeleton off the floor against the wall. As it did so, the chains snapped from the wall.

"Shit, it's managed to get itself loose from the chains!" Dieter said in alarm.

"Keep shooting," Konrad said. "Come on, Spinal, kill this goddamn thing already!"

Spinal struggled to get back up as the creature pressed a clawed foot on his chest. As the serpentine maw came down to bite down on his head, he disappeared in a column of green light, taking it with him as they both reappeared, the two creatures crashing down violently on the floor beside each other. Recovering, the two resumed.

Throughout his life, Konrad had seen all manner of fighting, be it in tournaments, on the streets or in movies. Muhammad Ali, Mike Tyson, Bruce Lee, Jackie Chan, T.J. "Combo" Garret - all had been absolutely magnificent to watch, but what Konrad saw before him was beyond anything he'd ever seen or experienced. There was nothing balletic or graceful about either the fighters or their movements, it was just frantic, bloody mindless chaos. Time had been rewound several million years back, before rationality and intellect were born, when tooth and claw were the only rules available.

Konrad wanted desperately to look away, but part of him was mesmerized and enthralled by it all, which in turn made his stomach churn in horror and self-disgust.

Before him, both creatures were the worst for wear; Spinal's bones were fractured in places with a few teeth missing while his serpentine opponent was covered in various cuts, oozing purple blood freely. Both unsteady on their feet, they took turns swiping at each other, lasting only a few minutes before the serpent collapsed unconscious onto the floor. Tossing his head back, Spinal's laugh echoed off the cell walls.

"He got it!" Dieter said.

Konrad watched as the animal's side heaved.

"Kill it," he ordered.

Turning around to face him, Spinal gave him a mocking hateful look.

"Come on," he demanded. "I said finish it."

The skeleton stepped toward its fallen opponent, staring down at it, tilting its head, quirking its jaw. Putting his sword down against a wall, he then bent toward the animal.

Konrad blinked.

"What-"

Hoisting the serpent up, Spinal then draped the unconscious animal off of his bony shoulders like some sort of scarf or coat, then started to strut proudly around, appreciating and petting his newfound "garment". *

Konrad stood there gawking in disbelief while Dieter howled with laughter as the skeleton moved into various poses like a fashion model, staring down at itself.

"Meh," Spinal shrugged as he then casually tossed the creature off his shoulders onto the floor in an indelicate heap.

"Alright," Konrad said amidst Dieter's chuckles. "You had your fun, now finish it."

The skeleton just stood there. Konrad was starting to lose patience.

"I said finish it!" he commanded.

Spinal picked back up its cutlass, then raised it over its head. At that exact moment, the animal sprung back to consciousness, lashing out with its tail, tripping the skeletal warrior. Pushing itself unsteadily up, the serpent stared down at its opponent, then, with a mighty swing down from its tail, crushed his skull into tiny pieces. Rearing up its head, the serpent let out a primal roar in victory before lowering it back down to face Konrad and Dieter themselves.

"This isn't good," the latter said.

The serpent took a step toward them both, then started to charge.

Konrad and Dieter flew forward and slammed the cell door shut, barely having enough time to lock it as the animal battered away to get to them, letting out daemonic howls of frustrated fury and hunger. After several attempts to get out, there came a loud snort, followed by a hiss.

"Goddamn, that thing is tough!" Dieter commented.

"Hn." grunted Konrad.

Beside them, a green aura appeared on the floor. Konrad watched as Spinal pulled himself out from the ground.

"What do you say, Baron?" Dieter asked. "Do you want to try again?"

"Nein," Konrad said. "I don't like the odds, especially with the animal loose in its cell. We'll need someone to tranquilize it and fix its chains as soon as possible - it's a fucking disaster waiting to happen. For now, let's get this little shit back upstairs before anyone spots us."

* * *

Once the duo finished in their task, they climbed down from the attic.

"That was some trick you pulled down there with summoning Spinal," Dieter said. "How did you do that?"

"I just visualized where and how he should appear," Konrad answered.

"Did you already know that it could do that?"

He shook his head.

"Nein," Konrad said.

"So what made you do it?"

He shrugged.

"Part of me was curious."

"Have you tried doing the same with its shape-shifting abilities?" Dieter asked. "You know, see if it could assume whatever shape or form you wanted?"

Konrad blinked.

"Nein," he said simply. "That just...never occurred to me. I probably should investigate those aspects more."

Dieter leaned back in thought.

"You know," he said, "if you can bend it to your will, even going so far as to make it talk-"

"Assuming that is even possible," Konrad interrupted.

"If it can be bent and shaped according to your will," Dieter said undeterred, "there could be a way for you to be in the public eye again."

The aristocrat blinked.

"Huh?" he said, startled.

"Think about it for a moment," Dieter said. "A doppelganger - no, a puppet that you can control to look and sound like you. You need to be at somewhere important but can't get there? Use Spinal."

Konrad pursed his lips.

"Ja, that could work." he said slowly. "We'll need to do further studies on the subject. Excellent idea!"

Dieter smiled.

"Glad you approve." he replied. "Will you need anything else, sir?"

"Nein," Konrad said. "I can manage on my own, thank you."

"Okay," Dieter said as he departed. "If you need anything just let me know."

Settling into his wheelchair, Konrad's cellphone went off.

"Hallo?"

"Mr. Chairman?"

Konrad's ears perked when he heard David Kellog's voice.

"Hello, David," he said into the phone. "You have news?"

"Yes," said David. "After careful examination of your documents and research, the Board and I have agreed to approve your project."

"YES!" Konrad cheered.

"I'm glad to hear the excitement in your voice, Mr. Chairman," David said. "The Board has high hopes for you. Don't let us down."

"I won't. You can be sure of that," the aristocrat assured.

"Excellent."

Just as Konrad was about to hang up, David then added, "By the way, have you heard about Dr. Gupte's new project?"

He hesitated.

"Project? What project?" he asked.

"Gupte wants to present something to the Board. She has been very hush-hush about what it is, but she claims that it will revolutionize everything," David answered. "She has also applied for a patent on a new cell line."

Konrad considered his words.

"Did she, now?" he replied. "Well that is curious."

"Indeed," David agreed. "I' ll be interested to see what she has."

"So will I," Konrad said. "Anyway, thank you for sharing the good news, David. I'll talk to you later. Auf Wiedersehen."

"Goodbye, Mr. Chairman."

As Konrad hung up his phone, suspicion crept into the corner of his mind, followed by a sinking feeling.

 _'What are you playing at, Herr Doctor?'_ he wondered.

* * *

As time passed by, further developments continued to be made at the Sabrewulf household.

Konrad had spent some time putting together a team for Project Fulgore along with some design plans for the machine itself.

Candidates were thoroughly screened and forced to sign contracts in order to ensure secrecy, especially when it came to the anomalies living under his roof. Looking at the notes for the Kilgore project, Konrad felt a certain level of distaste for its design.

A crude, ball-jointed thing with a bulky head with some loose wires at the back, the Kilgore prototype had no facial features save for a glowing red cyclopean eye, a red straight line that was indelicately placed at the center of a helmet. Konrad wasn't eager to repeat that design detail.

He wanted this newest machine to stand out and take peoples' breaths away.

Taking some cues from the Theseus androids and some of the armor in his castle, Konrad determined to make it a follow-up of sorts to the former; in the same way the Theseus androids were made to resemble Greek hoplites, Project Fulgore would resemble a medieval knight, complete with a helmet plume. Unfortunately, Mathison, the project director that Konrad had selected personally for the project, had been less than enthused about the idea and insisted on drawing inspiration from Japanese ninjas, making the design lithe and agile-looking with a ponytail and a pair of kage claws on its wrists, arguing that it would inspire intrigue. Konrad argued against it, pointing out that having the machine designed after a medieval knight would inspire feelings of assurance and safety. The two butted heads with each other over its design, at one point threatening to come to blows. Once they took some time to cool down, a compromise was made. As a result, Project Fulgore incorporated elements from both.

In order to increase Project Fulgore's chances of success, much effort was made in studying the enigmatic relationship between Homo Glacies and its metallic biomechanical shell. There was a great deal of overlap between the various projects; by researching Project Cinder's ability to phase through walls and objects, for example, were the researchers able to properly research Spinal's methods of transport and its energy source. Meanwhile, extensive studies had been carried out on Spinal's ability to somehow channel heat into its blade along with Cinder's ability to turn invisible, with both properties then incorporated into Project Fulgore. Research into both creatures in turn led to decoding more of Homo Glacies' genetic code, but after several impressive strides forward they hit a roadblock in the form of several more protein chains and impenetrable cell wall structures that left even the most brilliant biologists amongst Konrad's researchers stumped.

Meanwhile, Konrad's dreams continued to worsen.

Every night was some horrible experience that made him wake up in cold sweats and nausea, and no matter what he did, whether it was having a glass of milk or water, exercise or reading a book, it brought nothing but terror. It became such that he had to take sleeping pills.

In his dreams, Konrad was back at the arena, back when Spinal made his horrible debut and had summoned that massive beast, but what made these dreams particularly terrifying was that Konrad had witnessed it all from the perspective of the consumed.

As its maw opened, Konrad was slowly dragged alongside the other audience members.

Men, women and children were screaming and crying as they were forcibly moved into the creature's gullet by dead security guards and strange shadowy figures that resembled winged faceless humanoids with horns. No matter how much he struggled, Konrad was unable to break free from his captives.

Usually it would have been around here that he would burst wide awake in a panic, but each night he found himself drawn closer and closer until he descended, where he saw a great, sprawling, tenebrously desolate and alien landscape that was cloaked in perpetual shadow. What light existed in certain places was unnatural in color, with flames that either glowed a strangely lemon green or a harsh crimson.

Once everyone had been taken, Konrad bore witness to all manner of unspeakable horrors; in his dreams, the audience members were being hollowed out by the shadow figures, their various organs removed, devoured, used for blasphemous arcane rituals while their various parts were used to build shrines and temples, even other bizarre creatures. The leftover skins and bones themselves became nothing more than bodysuits for these beings.

Amidst all this horror, Konrad sensed something.

It was subtle at first, but as the dreams progressed in their intensity, the more Konrad became aware of some sort of presence that lurked somewhere in the background beyond his periphery, never in full view, although he might catch a glimpse from the corner of his eye. Multiple presences, in fact. Despite never having a clear view of anything, the aristocrat had sensed something enormous brush past him. It almost felt as if it had reached out for him before abruptly stopping and pulling away. Once he felt it leave, Konrad awoke screaming.

* * *

When morning came, Konrad stared tiredly down at his breakfast.

"You look terrible, Herr Baron," Jurgen said as he poured him a fresh cup of coffee.

"I've been having trouble sleeping," the aristocrat replied.

"Is it those nightmares again?"

He nodded.

Jurgen shook his head.

"We have to do something about this, Herr Baron" he said. "This is not normal."

"Ja, I'm quite aware of that, thank you," Konrad said bitterly.

"Perhaps you should seek help from a therapist."

"Absolutely not!" Konrad said.

"Herr Baron, you've been waking up screaming!"

"I know that!" he said in frustration.

"So why not get professional help?"

"Because I don't want to be called crazy!" Konrad retorted. "You don't think something like this wouldn't affect my position at the company? David would love hearing about this! It would give him grounds to relieve me of my position. I'd be forced to resigned!"

"Well," Jurgen said slowly, "perhaps it would be better if you had."

Konrad glared at him.

"Ohhh, I see," he said. "Now it comes out. I see what you're doing."

"What are you talking about?" Jurgen demanded.

"You don't think I know what you're trying to do?!" Konrad said angrily. "This isn't about concern for my health, it's jealousy!"

"Don't be ridiculous."

"AM I?!" Konrad roared. "You've always been jealous of me, Jurgen! Always! Ever since we were children you despised me for having wealth! You wanted everything I had, but you couldn't! You hated that you and your family were servants to mine! You might try to pass yourself off as some sort of Mother Theresa, the " _generous"_ hard-done-by saint who asks and wants for nothing, but the truth is you couldn't be happier and ask for more! You _love_ having power over me! You _love_ having the knowledge that I am vulnerable and under your thumb! You _don't_ want to see me recover, NO! You _want_ to see me ruined! It gives you pleasure seeing me being screwed over again and again and again! DON'T YOU DENY IT!"

Jurgen stonily stared at the Baron.

"How dare you?" he said lowly. "After all these years, how can you say such cruel things? If I really had wanted to see you ruined, why didn't I report some of your outrageous behaviour? Wasn't I always there when you needed me?"

"Someone play me a violin," Konrad retorted.

The butler stood there for a long time, not saying a word. When he finally spoke, his voice became cold and icy.

"You can go to hell."

As he turned around to march out the door, Konrad grabbed his cup and threw it in his direction. Ducking down as it crashed, Jurgen kept low as the Baron tossed the other items from his tray, pelting him with toast, bacon and eggs before more items crashed noisily around him.

"What the hell is going on here?!" Dieter said as the door opened, ducking quickly as a salt shaker smashed just a few feet above his head. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

"You are a lunatic, Herr Baron!" Jurgen said heatedly. "A goddamn lunatic!"

"GET OUT!" Konrad roared.

As Jurgen slammed the door behind them, the aristocrat sat there on the bed, his form trembling with anger. Looking down at his clenched fists, he casts his eyes around. He wanted to hit something. Anything. Anyone. Getting up, he checked around for a bottle of alcohol. Letting out a stream of curses in German, he kicked the mattress, then collapsed back down.

"Christ I wish I had a drink."

* * *

Later, Konrad sat in his office, studying the Tibetan scroll and statue. He squinted at the markings, trying to make heads or tails of the writing. A knock sounded at the door.

"Come in," he said.

He watched as Dieter stepped inside.

"Something you need?" Konrad asked.

"No, not really," the bodyguard replied. "Just checking up. Everything okay, boss?"

"I'm fine."

"You want to talk about what went down with Jurgen?"

Konrad said nothing.

"Baron?"

"What's to tell?" Konrad said wearily. Glancing up at him, he gave him a curious look. "How's Jurgen?"

"Pissed. I've never seen him so angry."

He grunted in acknowledgement.

Looking curiously at the items on his desk, Dieter eyed them.

"So what are you doing?"

"Nothing much," Konrad said. "I'm trying to decipher the writing on this, but there's a problem."

"And what's that?" Dieter asked.

"I don't speak or read Tibetan." he answered.

Dieter looked at him the moment he said that.

"But...if you hadn't known, how did you know that those items were real?" he queried.

"The same way I knew that mask was authentic, Dieter - I felt something."

"Have you tried asking Tyler to translate it?"

"Mr. Zhou doesn't speak Tibetan, unfortunately," Konrad replied. "Only Mandarin, Cantonese, English and Thai."

"Oh," Dieter said simply.

The aristocrat eyed him.

"I don't suppose you know Tibetan, per chance?"

"Sorry, Baron," Dieter shook his head. "Only Asian language I know is Thai."

Konrad blinked.

"Really?" he said interestedly. "I never knew that."

"Yeah." The bodyguard said as he took out a cigarette. "I picked it up from an ex-girlfriend named Sadira. Psycho bitch from hell, but man the sex was amazing."

Konrad winced.

"Too much information," he said.

The bodyguard shrugged as he lit a match and smoked.

"Having trouble sleeping?" he asked.

Konrad scoffed.

"It's that obvious?"

"Yep."

He nodded.

"Stomach problems?"

"Bad dreams," Konrad replied.

"It'll pass. Just listen to some music, relax. Do stuff that takes your mind off things."

"I've been trying," Konrad said. "But no matter what, these dreams keep coming. Hell I'd rather stay awake than experience them."

"That bad, huh?"

"Worse."

"Well, maybe by examining those Tibetan artifacts it will take your mind off your troubles. You know, keep the mind busy and all of that."

Konrad lowered his chin in thought.

"What?" Dieter asked.

"Do you suppose, Dieter," Konrad said slowly, "that I had been _meant_ to find these items?"

"What makes you say that?"

Konrad then told him about the dreams, not leaving out a single detail. Once he finished, Dieter shook his head.

"Christ, no wonder you've been screaming in the middle of the fuckin' night," the bodyguard grumbled. "That's some fucked up shit."

"Indeed." he nodded. "What do you think?"

"I think you're putting too much stock in this hocus-pocus crap."

"Surely some part of you must, especially considering everything that has happened since the tournament."

Dieter frowned.

"Supposing that you had been intended to find those damn things. Why? What purpose would that serve?"

Konrad frowned.

"I don't know," he admitted. "Maybe the mask responds to a particular user, thereby activating Spinal."

He tilted his head thoughtfully.

"That could explain why there haven't been other occurrences prior to my getting it."

"As far as you know," Dieter said.

Konrad shrugged.

"Touché."

He glanced up curiously at Dieter.

"Out of curiosity, have you heard about Gupte's latest project?" he asked.

The bodyguard shook his head.

"That's news to me." he said.

"Hm."

Konrad looked at the clock.

"I better be off," he said. "I have an appointment with Mr. Zhou."

"Okay," Dieter said. "If you need anything, just holler."

As the bodyguard departed from his office, Konrad glanced down at the Tiger statue, its gold fangs gleaming in the light.

* * *

 _"The way you walked was thorny, through no fault of your own, but as the rain enters the soil, the river enters the sea, so tears run to a predestined end. Now you will have peace for eternity."_

Konrad watched the scene morosely with glass of wine in hand. As the movie ended, he took a long gulp.

The knock came.

"Come in."

Jurgen entered, his face stoic.

"Is it safe to come in?" he asked.

"Ja, Ja. It's fine," Konrad replied.

The butler entered with a food tray.

"I brought you dinner," he said, refusing to look at him.

"Thank you."

"I thought you hated this movie," Jurgen said.

"I do," Konrad said as he raised his glass, "but there are some parts that are truer than on others."

"Such as?"

Pausing mid-drink, he lowered it down, staring despondently to the ground.

"The sense of futility," he answered.

Jurgen watched him.

"Herr Baron?"

Konrad looked up at him.

"Tell me, Jurgen, is this how it would always end for those afflicted with this...thing that I have? No happy endings? No hope of ever becoming normal? A cold pitiless death?"

Jurgen put a hand on his shoulder.

"Nein," he said. "This isn't the movies. Even though you are an enormous pain in the ass, you deserve better than this, Herr Baron. One day you will beat this."

"And if that day never comes?" Konrad asked. "If I end up becoming my father?"

The butler was silent for a moment, then simply squeezed his shoulder.

"One step at a time, Herr Baron," he said as he put his tray down onto Konrad's lap. "Have your food and get some rest."

Picking himself up, Jurgen turned around to leave.

"I'm...I'm sorry," Konrad said weakly. "For this morning."

Giving him a nod, Jurgen quietly exited the room, leaving the Baron alone as he somberly ate.


	12. Chapter Eleven: Complications

**Chapter Eleven: Complications**

 _ **"Fate wafts us from the pygmies' shore:**_  
 _ **We swim beneath the epic skies:**_  
 _ **A Rome and Carthage war once more,**_  
 _ **And wider empires are the prize;**_  
 _ **Where the beaked galleys clashed, lo, these**_  
 _ **Our iron dragons of the seas!**_

 _ **High o'er the cloudy battle sweep**_  
 _ **The wingèd chariots in their flight.**_  
 _ **The steely creatures of the deep**_  
 _ **Cleave the dark waters' ancient night.**_  
 _ **Below, above, in wave, in air**_  
 _ **New worlds for conquest everywhere.**_

 _ **More terrible than spear or sword**_  
 _ **Those stars that burst with fiery breath:**_  
 _ **More loud the battle cries are poured**_  
 _ **Along a hundred leagues of death.**_  
 _ **So do they fight. How have ye warred,**_  
 _ **Defeated Armies of the Lord?**_

 _ **This is the Dark Immortal's hour;**_  
 _ **His victory, whoever fail;**_  
 _ **His prophets have not lost their power;**_  
 _ **Cæsar and Attila prevail.**_  
 _ **These are your legions still, proud ghosts,**_  
 _ **These myriad embattled hosts.**_

 _ **How wanes Thine empire, Prince of Peace!**_  
 _ **With the fleet circling of the suns**_  
 _ **The ancient gods their power increase.**_  
 _ **Lo, how Thine own anointed ones**_  
 _ **Do pour upon the warring bands**_  
 _ **The devil's blessings from their hands.**_

 _ **Who dreamed a dream 'mid outcasts born**_  
 _ **Could overbrow the pride of kings?**_  
 _ **They pour on Christ the ancient scorn.**_  
 _ **His Dove its gold and silver wings**_  
 _ **Has spread. Perhaps it nests in flame**_  
 _ **In outcasts who abjure His name.**_

 _ **Choose ye your rightful gods, nor pay**_  
 _ **Lip reverence that the heart denies,**_  
 _ **O Nations! Is not Zeus to-day,**_  
 _ **The thunderer from the epic skies,**_  
 _ **More than the Prince of Peace? Is Thor**_  
 _ **Not nobler for a world at war?**_

 _ **They fit the dreams of power we hold,**_  
 _ **Those gods whose names are with us still.**_  
 _ **Men in their image made of old**_  
 _ **The high companions of their will.**_  
 _ **Who seek an airy empire's pride,**_  
 _ **Would they pray to the Crucified?**_

 _ **O outcast Christ, it was too soon**_  
 _ **For flags of battle to be furled**_  
 _ **While life was yet at the hot noon.**_  
 _ **Come in the twilight of the world:**_  
 _ **Its kings may greet Thee without scorn**_  
 _ **And crown Thee then without a thorn."**_ \- "Gods of War" by George William Russel (aka A.E.)"

Dieter cringed as he heard the Baron's laugh outside of his office.

Had he finally lost his marbles?

The Baron had been acting very strangely these last few days, often withdrawn, sometimes muttering to himself without even realizing.

Stepping forward, he knocked on the door.

"Come in."

Opening the door, Dieter uncertainly peered inside.

"Is everything okay, Baron?" the bodyguard asked.

"Everything is fine," Konrad assured as he sat at his desk. "Why?"

"I was curious," he replied. "I heard you laughing outside."

The aristocrat nodded.

"I see," he said. "I was watching some funny videos on YouTube. Stand-up comedians. Would you like to see?"

 _'Perhaps he is going nuts,'_ Dieter thought.

"No, thank you," he replied. "With all due respect, sir, shouldn't you be working?"

Konrad frowned.

"I had read an article in the newspaper about how laughter decreases stress hormones, lowers blood pressure, increases muscle flexion as well as immune cells and infection-fighting antibodies. I just thought that..."

He trailed off.

"I get it," Dieter said with a nod.

"It's been so long, Dieter, since I last felt human. Since I laughed," Konrad said lowly as he reclined back into his chair. "I look around and think back to the days when I was a boy, when I was able to enjoy the great outdoors and go places with friends. How I would go see a concert, play or a movie, or even just stop to get some ice cream."

His eyes gleamed wistfully.

"I still remember the smell of the ice cream parlor."

Looking over his shoulder at the various pictures on the wall behind him, right next to graduate certificates, Konrad gestured to the various famous celebrities that were featured.

"I remember being at those parties, mingling and laughing with friends, enjoying a good wine..." he trailed off for a moment, his eyes losing their light. "Now it all seems like nothing more than a dream. Sometimes I wonder if those moments actually _had_ happened, or if it had _all_ been a dream."

Dieter shook his head.

"Talk about depressing," he said. "You really need to stop thinking about the past, Baron. It's really unhealthy."

The aristocrat said nothing as he broodily stared down at his desk. The phone beeped on his desk. Konrad reached down and pressed the speaker.

"Ja?"

"You have a call from David Kellog," ARIA said impassively.

"Thank you, ARIA," Konrad said. "Put him through."

"Hello?"

"Guttentag, David."

"Ah, Mr. Chairman. I'm just calling to remind you of Gupte's presentation in half an hour."

"I haven't forgotten," Konrad said bluntly. "I'll see you and the other Board members online."

Hanging up, he checked himself, then rolled out from his office.

"I have to go and get ready," Konrad said. "Gupte will be presenting her secret project."

"Why not stay here for it?" Dieter asked.

Konrad raised his fingers, shushing him as he nervously glanced back to the speaker.

"Oh come on!" Dieter said. "ARIA's just a junkie machine. Don't be ridiculous."

"Even so, Dieter," Konrad said quietly, "I never felt comfortable speaking around it. I keep getting the feeling like the bloody thing is listening in on me."

"You're being paranoid, Baron," Dieter said.

"Well thank you for your support and confidence," the aristocrat said sarcastically, "now if you'll excuse me, I have a meeting to prepare for."

As the Baron rolled out and departed down the hallway, Dieter shook his head and sighed.

* * *

The screen flickered on.

"Ah! Welcome, Mr. Chairman," David said, frowning at the monitor. "Your camera is still not registering."

"I'm well aware, thank you," Konrad said.

"Alright, alright," David said, his hands raised in placation.

"Is everyone here?"

"Yes," David confirmed. "Before we begin-"

He stopped as loud, sultry moaning played over the speakers.

"Oh baby! Oh yes! Oh yes! Yes!"

Konrad blinked bemusedly.

"Oh for god's sake," David said irritably, ripping off his spectacles.

Two Board members chuckled, the others glancing around startled and puzzled. Two others looked away in embarrassment while another looked uncomfortable.

"Who is that?!" David demanded. "I'll say again, who is doing that?!"

A young man, an intern, sheepishly smiled, rubbing the back of his head.

"I'm so sorry about that, Mr. Kellog. It's my son's cellphone," he explained embarrassedly. "My own is currently being charged so I had to borrow his."

"Well turn it off!"

The man hastily shut it off.

"You ought to be ashamed of yourself," David scolded. "This is a business meeting."

"I-I'm very sorry, sir."

"Get out."

"But-"

"I said get out!"

Flustered, the man hurried out of the room, his head lowered in shame. Once he departed, David looked around at everyone.

"I am so sorry that you all had to witness that, ladies and gentlemen," he said as he shuffled his papers. "Now, back to what I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted. I want everyone to make sure your cellular devices are turned off. Everything discussed here in this room is highly confidential and isn't to be disclosed to anyone outside this room. Personnel with Level Nine clearance are the only ones allowed."

Once everyone finished, he resumed.

"Before we turn over to Dr. Gupte, there are a few items that need to be reviewed. Item One concerns some good news regarding the Meyers case. As you all may know, the Meyers family had attempted to sue us for a six digit figure due to supposedly faulty hardware, but, thankfully, the court has decided in our favor in our uncovering their previous attempts at fraud with other companies. Sterling work by our attorneys over at the firm _'Wiesel, Dieb und Maden'_. Big round of applause for them!"

Konrad clapped alongside the others onscreen.

"Item Two concerns your energy project, Mr. Chairman," David said. "Can you give an update on its status?"

The aristocrat cleared his throat.

"The project is in its early stages, but results are promising," he said. "Much testing still has to be done in order to ensure that it is safe. With that said, however, we have made some enormous strides with Project Fulgore, especially in its weaponry."

"Really?" David said keenly. "Do tell."

"Ah, ah, ah!" Konrad said coyly. "Not until it is finished."

"Very well," David said. "Moving on, I will now pass the floor to Dr. Gupte. Doctor, if you please."

Konrad watched on the screen as Gupte stood up before the Board.

"Thank you, Mr. Kellog," she said as she started to hand out some sheets. "Please pass these along while I submit the files containing my proposal to those present online."

Konrad waited as she opened up a laptop and sent the file. Opening it up, he peered at the proposal's title.

"'Project...Rip...tor'?" David said as he phonetically sounded it out.

"Ja," Gupte nodded. "Project RIPTOR. Acronym for "Retrovirally Infected Predator"."

Konrad froze.

"What is it?" Sacket asked curiously.

"Before I answer that, I want to ask you all a simple question," Gupte said. "Does anyone know what a chimaera is?"

"Ja, it's a monster from Greek mythology that was part lion, part snake and part goat," Konrad said.

"That is correct," Gupte said. "In the context of genetics, however, a chimera is a single organism composed of cells from two or more separate organisms. No doubt many of you have heard about geneticists such as J. Craig Venter wanting to create pigs with human organs or humanized mice. Or how in 2007 scientists created sheep that were fifteen percent human, or the Chinese researchers in 2011 that genetically modified cows to produce milk that is akin to human breast milk."

"Yes, yes, we're all familiar with them," David said impatiently. "What does this have to do with Project Riptor?"

"A lot actually. Several months ago, I came upon a newly discovered strain of retrovirus, labelled in my notes as SW-G1-28," Gupte said. "Before I could investigate it fully, an incident had occurred; one of the animal handlers had forgotten to secure one of the cages containing live cobras, and as a result, one of them escaped and consumed mice infected with this retrovirus."

People murmured amongst themselves as she showed them pictures via projector.

"Roughly an hour after consumption, the subject started to change, expanding in size and had consumed the others, even going so far as to develop forearms. Two weeks later, it developed a pair of legs. A month later, it became bipedal."

The Board members gasped as Gupte showed them the latest photo.

"My god," one breathed.

"Look at the size of that thing!"

David stared at the screen.

"Why the hell weren't we informed of this sooner?!" he demanded.

Gupte wiped her glasses.

"I needed to investigate further in order to determine the potential hazard it represented." she answered.

"Is it dangerous?"

"Very."

"Am I crazy or do parts of it look human?" Sacket asked.

The doctor nodded.

"Indeed it does," she said. "The retrovirus has inserted human DNA into its genetic code and has modified it considerably."

"Human?" David repeated, puzzled. "Why would it have human DNA?"

Konrad stared at the screen in alarm.

"A working theory I have is that human contamination had occurred when the mice were being handled," Gupte said.

The explanation seemed to satisfy the Board members, causing Konrad to quietly sigh in relief.

"Were the mice already infected with this thing, or did you infect them yourself?"

"The former." Gupte answered before moving on. "Following its mutation, "RIPTOR" developed several new traits. Not only is it highly adaptable, able to resist freezing cold temperature and extreme heat, but it can spit highly concentrated venom. It also has immense strength, agility, a remarkably high intelligence and possesses considerable regenerative capabilities unlike anything I've ever seen. Even more, it can reproduce asexually."

People looked around and chattered nervously.

"How do we know any of this is real?" David demanded. "How do we know this isn't some sort of joke?"

Without saying a word, Gupte bent down and picked up a bag. As she opened it up, Konrad grimly watched as she placed five leathery eggs on the table.

"You may examine them, if you wish," she said. "Just be very careful with them."

Konrad stared at the scene as people passed the eggs around, poking and feeling them. One or two hesitated while another downright refused to touch them.

David quietly regarded the eggs.

"Did the Chairman know about this?"

Gupte shook her head.

"Nein," she said.

"It was awfully risky to have kept this a secret," David said. "It's a wonder no one had gotten hurt or killed if it's as dangerous as you had suggested."

"Have there been any incidents?" Sacket asked.

"It tried to escape several times, but thankfully no one has gotten hurt," she answered.

"Is it infectious?"

"Tests with other animals reveals that it is through scratches from its claws. I'm currently looking into developing an antidote for it."

"And what of SW-G1-28?" Konrad asked. "I thought I heard something about a patent."

"It is true," Gupte confirmed. "I have applied for a patent and hope to make a new cell line using it."

"I don't like this," David said. "This has litigation written all over it."

"Mindful of the potential harm "RIPTOR" may have, ladies and gentlemen," Gupte said, "you have to consider the benefits of this discovery. Think about it for a second - the first ever reptilian/human chimera, a creature that has newly formed, never-before-seen proteins in its venom, with a genetic code that has the potential to revolutionize modern medicine and allow for unprecedented advances in cross species genetics! Money can be made from this."

"Even so," David said, "there would still be the issue of what to do with this thing. After all, it is an animal that needs to be fed and looked after."

"Perhaps we could breed it and sell it as part of a lineup for genetically modified pets," One of the Board members suggested. "There is a market for such. Even more, if we were to alter traits of the animal's young during their development, perhaps give them different colors, different color patterns, different appearances, different sizes, different behaviours, we could attract a wider audience. What person wouldn't want to design their very own dinosaur? And that's not even thinking about food, clothing and accessories."

David nodded.

"That could potentially work." he replied.

Gupte gave them both an incredulous stare.

"Surely you two aren't serious!" she exclaimed.

"We most certainly are."

"Mr. Kellog, this is a dangerous animal, not a poodle!"

"And presumably it's possible to domesticate it, if not alter its genetics and its offspring so that they wouldn't be infectious." David said.

"Well, ja, but-"

"Why settle for _just_ the pet market?" One of the Board members interrupted.

"And what do you have in mind, Ms. Chambers?" David asked.

Tilting her head in thought, Chambers ran her fingers along her chin.

"Taking into consideration some of the military applications of it, I can see this animal as being _extremely_ valuable, especially to DARPA," she said.

David hesitated.

"You have got to be joking," he said.

"Making money isn't a laughing matter," she said.

"Ms. Chambers," David said slowly, "how can this animal possibly be utilized?"

"By going places that your combat androids couldn't," Chambers said matter of factly. "It is common knowledge that the maintenance work and upkeep for them is a nightmare to deal with, especially in harsh terrain. If this animal is as intelligent and as adaptable as Gupte suggests, then it will be the perfect answer to our problems. No sand or damp would disable or short circuit it, nor will it freeze up and lock into place when it suddenly becomes too cold. Plus, it is self-sustaining. Even if it gets killed, it can infect the enemy and create more like it."

David raised his eyes up the moment she said that.

"And how will it exactly know who or what is an enemy?" he said. "What will prevent it from eating civilians?"

"A combination of training, conditioning and shock collars," Chambers answered. "Condition the animal to recognize certain sounds, words or frequencies that will give it the order to attack or to halt. Perhaps even train it to follow commands, to work with a squad or platoon of soldiers or track targets."

 _'This cannot be happening,'_ Konrad thought.

Gupte did NOT just go behind his back to reveal this monstrosity before the Board, and Chambers was NOT proposing this travesty of an idea. But no matter how hard he tried denying, there wasn't any escape from what was happening.

David sat quietly at the table. Lifting his head up in contemplation, Konrad saw gears moving around in his head.

"I think it is a horrible idea," he said.

 _'Bless you, David,'_ Konrad thought. He may be a sycophantic blowhard, but at least he had sense.

"However," he continued, "it might not be that much of a stretch to imagine that some government will eventually decide to use this animal and its ilk for military purposes, so we should look into that as a potential avenue to explore. All in all, I think this could be a potential rainmaker."

 _'I stand corrected,'_ Konrad bitterly thought.

"Should we consider the idea of taking SW-G1-28 and applying it to other species?" One of the Board members asked.

Konrad opened his mouth to protest when David spoke, "One step at a time, Mr. Meyers. For now we have to deal with this creature first, although that could be a topic to discuss at our next meeting."

He then looked around.

"All those in favor?"

Konrad watched as all of the Board members raised their hands in the air.

"All those against?"

None voted.

"What say you, Mr. Chairman?" David said expectantly.

The aristocrat sighed.

* * *

When Jurgen entered the Baron's room, he saw the aristocrat seated on his bed.

"Your supper is almost ready, Herr Baron," he said.

Konrad made no indication of having heard him. His eyes cast down, he broodily stared into nothingness, his face troubled.

"What's wrong?" the butler asked.

"I found out what Gupte's project is," Konrad replied.

"What is it?"

He sighed.

"She's revealed the creature to the Board members," he said. "'Project RIPTOR', she calls it."

"'RIPTOR?'"

"Ja," Konrad said. "The 'Retrovirally Infected Predator'. Not only does the Board love it, but they want to sell and breed it as a pet, among other things."

Jurgen stared at him. "That's insane."

He shrugged.

"Tell me about it."

"I hope you voted against it."

Konrad said nothing.

"Herr Baron," Jurgen said slowly, "please tell me that you haven't voted in favor of this madness."

Konrad shook his head.

"I ended up using all of Dieter's suggestions for containment with regards for potential military applications," he replied.

The butler just stood there.

"Why?" he asked.

Konrad pinched the bridge of his nose.

"I didn't exactly have much choice," he answered.

"Of course you did!" Jurgen said. "You are majority shareholder! You could have just said "no" and ended it."

"But either way I would still be stuck with the damn thing, Jurgen!" Konrad retorted as he pulled his hand away. "Even if I just let it rot in that cell, it's still going to be there, and if the failed attempts on it were any indication, it isn't going to die anytime soon!"

"So the best thing to do is to market and sell it?!"

"I didn't have a choice!" Konrad said. "I know it is a mistake. A horrible mistake...but Jurgen, I didn't have a choice."

"Keep telling yourself that, Herr Baron," Jurgen said, "and maybe someday you'll start to believe it. I'm going to check up on your dinner. It should be ready in about an hour."

Konrad's stomach sunk as the butler departed. It wasn't just the flatness in his voice that bothered him, but also the look of disappointment that he gave. The worst part of it was that Konrad couldn't blame him - it was deserved, and rightly so. Konrad had let Jurgen down.

 _'Why didn't I just say no?_ ' he thought.

He _was_ the majority shareholder - his vote had the most impact. Whatever decision he made, he had power.

 _'I can fix this,'_ Konrad thought.

Taking out his cellphone, he dialed David's number and waited as it rang. He was going to put things right and end this before it even began.

Several minutes passed. When the answering machine came on, the aristocrat hung up cursing before redialing the number. By the fifth try, he finally got through.

"Hello?"

"David! It's Baron Von Sabrewulf," Konrad said.

"Ah, Mr. Chairman! How are you?"

"I'm fine," Konrad answered. "About Gupte's project-"

"Yes, fabulous, isn't it?" David laughed, cutting him off. "I had just finished talking with some very important people, including some of our contacts at DARPA, and they absolutely love the idea!"

The aristocrat's heart sank.

"They do?"

"Yes. They're all very excited about it."

"I see."

"What was it that you wanted to say?"

Konrad opened his mouth to say something, but stopped.

"Mr. Chairman?"

"It's nothing," he said. "Sorry to have bothered you."

Hanging up the phone, Konrad stared dejectedly to the floor.

Not only had he made the dumbest mistake in the history of stupid mistakes, but the damage has already been done. There was nothing he could do to stop it.

Getting up from the bed, he positioned himself into his wheelchair.

 _'I think it's time to pay a little visit to the good doctor,'_ he thought bitterly.

* * *

Gupte wasn't surprised to see Konrad upon opening the door.

"Something you want, Herr Baron?" she asked.

Konrad rolled inside, then hastily shut the door behind him.

"How dare you." he said lowly. "How dare you go behind my back about this?! And how dare you put a patent on my cells!"

"You seem displeased," Gupte said dryly.

"WHO THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?!" Konrad roared. "You think you have the authority to do whatever you want?!"

"You are one to talk."

"I _own_ this company!" Konrad snapped. "It is my legal right! Whatever I say goes!"

"And what about RIPTOR's?!" she demanded. "What about its rights?! You are content to just torture and murder it before live audiences on that disgusting program of yours!"

"Because it is a liability! You've seen for yourself how difficult it is to kill, let alone contain!"

"I don't regret my actions, Herr Baron. If revealing RIPTOR to the Board will spare it from the cruelty and suffering you inflict onto it, thereby preventing it from being part of that foul tournament of yours and keep it safe, then it was worth it."

"Don't be so smug, you sanctimonious bitch," Konrad spat.

Gupte gave a shocked expression, looking like she had been slapped.

"You think you've won?" Konrad said. "Guess again. That animal _will_ die, Gupte. I don't care how, I don't care how many times I'll have to try, but it will die. Even if I have to force it into the tournament over and over again, I will not stop until I'm certain that thing has stopped breathing. And as for your patent-"

"You can't do anything!" Gupte taunted. "We both know that. You can huff and puff all you want, but with the Board's eyes on the project there is nothing you can do!"

"We'll see about that."

He scoffed at her.

"You call me cruel." Konrad said. "How ironic, especially considering what _you_ are doing is exponentially _worse_! Ja, I want it dead. Ja, I may have contributed to its...suffering. But you! Because of you, the Board wants to patent it, package it, and weaponize it! Not only that, they want to breed more of it! You aren't ensuring its safety, Gupte - you've just multiplied its sufferings tenfold!"

Gupte clenched her jaw angrily.

"Because of you, Gupte, not only will it and its brood be shot, stabbed, blown up, incinerated, beaten, humiliated and exposed to every known horror on the battlefield, with billions watching, but you will also contribute to even further suffering to humanity! Lives will be ruined as family members are devoured before their children's frightened eyes, assuming they themselves survive long enough to avoid being either food or turned. Assuming that the children _themselves_ aren't the ones devouring them."

The office was quiet, the two figures staring at each other, the air thick and heavy.

"Ja, what I'm doing is cruel," Konrad said, "but don't you even pretend for a moment that you are some infallible saint!"

"Don't you dare pin this on me, Herr Baron!" Gupte said sternly. "I wanted to use the creature for medicine, for the good of humanity! It was _you_ who approved its use as a weapon! So when you see all those bodies on TV in the future, remember that it was YOUR doing, not mine! Now, if you're done wasting my time, Herr Baron, I have work to do!"

Konrad's eyes narrowed.

"If you ever pull a stunt like this again," he said, his voice low, "I'll-"

"You'll what, Herr Baron?" the scientist interrupted. "The reality, Herr Baron, is that you need me more than I need you, so before you even say anything else, if I were you, I'd think long and hard, otherwise you'll do something that you will regret."

Turning around, Konrad angrily rolled toward the door.

"This isn't over, Gupte!" he growled over his shoulder. "Not by a long shot."

As he left her office, Konrad felt her gaze burn into his back.

* * *

Jurgen heard the Baron in his room, humming a tune drunkenly.

 _'Drunk himself into a stupor again,'_ he thought with displeasure.

Inhaling deeply, he let out a sigh, steeling himself for whatever awaited. Dealing with the Baron in this state was like a game of Russian roulette - one never knew what to expect when he had too much to drink. Sometimes he'd be incredibly merry, even goofy. Often the aristocrat would just be moody and suffer severe bouts of depression. There were times, however, when the drink would bring out the worst in him; the Baron would be volatile, quick to anger, even violent, hurling insults and whatever object he could get his hands on. While he himself never lashed out using his fists, thankfully, Konrad can be an absolute nightmare.

Raising up his hand, he knocked on the door.

"Come in," Konrad slurred.

Opening the door, Jurgen saw the Baron seated on his bed, holding up a glass of wine. Beside him were four empty bottles.

"Ah, Jurgen!" Konrad said cheerfully. "Come in, come in!"

 _'Well,'_ Jurgen thought, _'at least he's in a good mood.'_

For now. He never let his guard down, though - when the Baron drank it's never certain how long this show of amiability would last before reverting to something else.

The butler slowly approached, keeping his eyes locked on him.

"Would you like a drink?" Konrad drunkenly offered, spilling some on himself.

"Nein, thank you, Herr Baron," he refused.

The aristocrat grunted, wiping himself clumsily with his forearm, then took a huge gulp.

"What are you doing?" Jurgen asked.

"Drinking!" Konrad said. "Can't you see?"

The lupine figure's shoulders slumped.

"I don't know, Jurgen," Konrad said. "Sometimes I wonder if I'm destined for failure. The only one that seems to be succeeding around here is Spinal, and he's chained up in the attic!"

Jurgen stared at him as he took another long sip.

"I think it's time you put that away, Herr Baron," he said. "Supper is ready."

"Well," Konrad belched, "bring it up, bring it up! I can still eat it."

"Are you sure?"

"Certainly!"

Leaving the room, Jurgen went down to the kitchen and prepared his meal. When he got back, he found the Baron sprawled out on the bed, snoring loudly. Sighing, he placed the tray on a nearby counter and went over to the bed, taking away the bottle and glass cups. Grabbing hold of the blanket, Jurgen carefully tucked the Baron in, making sure as not to disturb him, then took the glasses and tray of food and quietly left the room, closing the door behind him.

* * *

The next day, Konrad was in the attic massaging his temples while Dieter and several researchers dressed in lab coats holding clipboards set up cameras around Spinal.

"Are the cameras ready?" he asked.

"Yes sir." One of the researchers said.

"Good."

Pulling his hand away, he took out the mask from his cloak pocket and waited as the bodyguard nervously untied Spinal. Once he finished, Dieter quickly backed away.

"Okay, cameras are rolling, sir," a researcher said. "Subject: Spinal. Height: 5'6. Weight: 120 pounds. Age-"

"Can we get on, please!" Konrad said in exasperation. "I don't want to spend all day up here."

The researcher nodded.

"Sorry, sir," he said. "Transformation Test, Take One."

Konrad held up the mask in his right hand.

"Rise."

Obeying, the skeleton stood in front of everyone.

"Do you have your stopwatch ready, Dieter?" Konrad asked.

"Yes, Baron," the bodyguard replied as he held it up.

"When I give the signal, I want you to time its transformation."

"Understood, sir."

"Now," Konrad said slowly. "Transform!"

Spinal uselessly stood there, clacking his mandible.

"Transform!"

The skeleton remained still.

"Why isn't he following orders?" Konrad said aloud.

"Perhaps it needs fuel to do it?" One of the researchers suggested.

The aristocrat hesitated. He opened his mouth to protest, but as he did so, he stopped, realizing that he didn't have any choice.

"Fine," he said. "Crumple up a piece of paper and toss it at him."

"Shouldn't we try something heavier?" Another researcher queried.

"Believe me," Konrad said lowly, "it will be enough."

Watching as one of the researchers crumpled a sheet into a ball, he braced himself as the paper ball was thrown. When it impacted the shield, Konrad strained himself as Spinal absorbed the ball's kinetic energy, watching as a green skull appeared over its head.

People murmured at the sight.

"Stopwatch ready, Dieter?"

"Yes sir."

"Now," Konrad said through gritted teeth, focusing all of his will into the mask, "transform!"

There came a great flash, and suddenly the creature changed. It now looked exactly like Dieter, only paler.

Everyone stared, oohing and awing. Even Dieter was amazed, his mouth dropped to the floor.

"Incredible!"

Konrad looked over at the bodyguard.

"Time?"

Shaking himself from his daze, Dieter checked the stop watch.

"Three seconds," he called.

"Three seconds?!" one of the researchers said incredulously. "Impossible!"

"That's what it says," Dieter replied.

"Stay focused," Konrad interrupted. "We need to see how long the transformation can last for."

A female researcher approached the duplicate, reaching out with her hand and touched its face and clothes.

"It looks and feels real." she said in amazement. "Real...yet different."

"What do you mean?" Konrad asked.

"The skin feels cold and clammy," the woman answered. "The clothing...I don't even know how to describe it."

The duplicate gave no reaction as her hand felt its features.

As she continued examining it, tracing her hand along its face, its cheek came off in her hand, causing her to shriek and retreat back as maggots poured from the ugly wound. The duplicate seized up and started to rot.

"Transform back!" Konrad demanded.

A green fiery haze consumed the duplicate, burning away its flesh. Spinal returned back to normal, standing there as if nothing had happened.

"For god's sakes, someone clean this up!" Konrad ordered, then watched as the various personnel stomped on maggots and gathered up the mess, putting them into plastic sample bags and spraying the floor with cleaning supplies.

Once they were finished, the aristocrat looked over to Dieter.

"Were you able to record how long it was able to maintain its form for?" he asked.

"Five minutes, forty seconds," the bodyguard answered.

"It's incredible, Herr Baron," one of the researchers said. "I've never seen anything like it!"

"None of us have," a colleague retorted.

"We need to conduct further tests on it!"

"I couldn't agree more," Konrad said. "How do we get its transformation to last longer?"

One of the scientists shrugged.

"I imagine it would need to replenish its energy supply," he said hypothetically. "Perhaps by giving it more?"

Dieter cast a worried glance over at Konrad.

"Is that really a good idea, sir?" he asked. "You strain yourself just from it being-"

"I know, Dieter," Konrad replied. "Let us continue."

"Are you sure, Baron?"

He nodded, then held up the mask.

"Do it," Konrad said. "This time, try throwing two more paper balls at it."

As the researchers scrunched up more pieces of paper, Konrad turned his eyes over to Spinal, watching him carefully.

When the paper balls struck the shield, Spinal let out a fearsome roar as Konrad doubled over, groaning in pain.

"Baron!" Dieter cried.

"I'm fine," the aristocrat grunted as he steadied himself, trembling as he concentrated as more his will into the artifact. "I'm fine."

Spinal's form trembled as it tried rebelling, straining furiously. Konrad could practically feel its own will trying to resist and overcome his own.

"Transform!" he said through gritted teeth.

Spinal roared back angrily.

"I said transform!"

The skeleton disappeared in a flash. In its place, a copy of one of the researchers appeared.

"Jesus," Dieter said.

"It looks exactly like you, Karl!" one of the researchers said to a colleague.

Focusing his will through the artifact, Konrad decided to try something.

"I'm a little teapot, short and stout," the duplicate sang. "Here's my handle and here is my spout."

Jaws dropped as it started hopping around on one foot and danced.

"Baron, are you doing this?" Dieter chuckled.

"Ja." he answered, then gestured to the researchers. "Take some samples while it's still in this state."

He watched as everyone poked, prodded and swabbed the duplicate, drawing blood, taking skin and hair samples and putting them all into containers. Once they finished, they moved away just as Konrad glanced back to Dieter.

"Time?"

"Ten minutes," the bodyguard answered.

As he said that, one of the duplicate's ears fell off.

"Revert back."

Once it finished, one of the researchers quickly grabbed the ear and put into a container.

"Okay, we got the last sample."

Konrad stared at the skeleton.

"Let's see how far it can go."

* * *

As the day drew on, it became apparent that Spinal's shape-shifting abilities had no limits. Men, women, children, animals - whatever was imagined it could become instantly. Even some of the more outlandish forms that Konrad had in his head became physically manifested into corporeal form. But with this continued usage came a heavy toll; Konrad became mentally exhausted as he tried restraining the little bastard.

"I think that will be all for now," Konrad said as he held up the mask. "Return back to the table."

Scowling, Spinal stomped back and obeyed, lying back down as Dieter and the others tied it down. Once it was secured, Konrad's arm dropped.

"Are you okay, Baron?" Dieter asked.

"Ja," Konrad said with a slow nod. "Just a little tired."

Stumbling, he nearly collapsed forward. Dieter rushed over and placed his arm over his neck.

"Give me some help over here!" The bodyguard yelled.

Five researchers helped Dieter as they steadied the Baron. "Let's get you out of here, sir. You need to get some rest."

As Konrad was guided carefully to the ladder, he glanced over his shoulder back at Spinal's smiling visage.

* * *

"NEIN!" Konrad yelled as he shot up from the bed.

Glancing around with wild frightened eyes, he searched around him as he flicked on a lamp.

Once he was satisfied that nothing was in the room with him, Konrad rested his head against the headboard.

His latest dream was by far the worst he's ever had, not only because of its content but also because of how remarkably lucid it all was.

Shuddering, the Baron tried to shift his attention away from it.

He couldn't go back to sleep, not after that horrible experience. Getting up from the bed, Konrad looked around the room, searching through cupboard and shelves.

"Where did I put my laptop?" he muttered.

A few minutes later, Konrad found it in one of the drawers. Grabbing it, he took it to the bed and quietly plugged it in. Settling comfortably down with his back resting against a pillow and the headboard, Konrad clicked onto Google and went straight to YouTube. Typing into the search engine, he waited as the page loaded. Once the video by Harry Coswell appeared, Konrad clicked on it and played it again.

* * *

When morning came, Jurgen entered Konrad's room with a tray of breakfast.

"You're up early, Herr Baron," the butler commented.

"I've been up all night," Konrad replied, not looking up from his laptop.

"Another bad dream?" Jurgen asked.

Konrad nodded.

Jurgen sighed as he approached the Baron.

"Put the tray on the table beside me," the latter said.

Obeying, the butler gave him a curious glance.

"Reading something interesting?" he asked.

"I've been watching videos on YouTube and looking up information," Konrad replied.

"About what, Herr Baron?"

"Harry Coswell," he answered.

"Coswell?" Jurgen repeated. "Is that the one you described as a crackpot?"

"Indeed," Konrad answered.

"Why this sudden interest in Coswell?"

Lifting his eyes from the monitor to meet the butler's, Jurgen saw the tiredness in them, all veiny and drooping.

"I wanted to get in contact with him to see what else he knew," he said.

"Did he say anything?" Jurgen asked.

"I wasn't able to get hold of him, unfortunately," the Baron replied. "Apparently he had died shortly after making that YouTube video about Spinal months ago."

"Oh dear. How did it happen?"

"Police say he committed suicide," he answered. "I've been thinking about some of the stuff that he's been talking about. For instance, how Spinal was some sort of tether."

He had a troubled expression.

"What is it?" Jurgen asked concernedly.

"Have you ever wondered why on the day it appeared there was chanting and yet since then we haven't heard anything else?" Konrad asked.

The butler nodded.

"I have," he said. "Why? What are you thinking?"

Konrad shifted uncomfortably on the bed.

"I dreamt of him last night," he recalled. "It all started with me opening my eyes."

* * *

 _Konrad found himself on a checkered tiled floor that was suspended in the air, with thick clouds passing around him, the wind pressing against his form. Looking over the edge, he saw no bottom or ground, just an empty stretch of sky that extended into infinity. Raising his head to the sky itself, he saw no stars or moon, just clouds that moved far too quickly for his liking. The air thick and discolored with a yellowish haze like chalk or charcoal, he looked around on the floating platform, then stopped upon finding that he wasn't alone; ten silhouetted figures stood before him, watching. Opening his mouth, Konrad called to them, but for whatever reason he couldn't hear his own voice. Trying again, he started to yell. Nothing. No matter what he said, no matter how loud or how hard he tried, nothing came out. Frustrated, Konrad looked to see if the figures themselves had heard him, but nothing indicated that anything he said registered. Taking a couple steps forward, Konrad squinted his eyes through the thick yellow haze. He could just vaguely make out their outlines._

 _Three men and one woman._

 _Peering through the chalky haze, he tried making out the rest of their features, but it was difficult. Looking around to the rest, Konrad was startled at the sight of them._

 _RIPTOR was on the platform, uncaged and unchained, coiled up in serpentine fashion on the floor. Beside it stood Ferris, who stared directly at Konrad with hate-filled eyes as he continued to burn. Eagle was there, looking pale and dead, while Homo Glacies stoically watched him._

 _As the wind howled in this bizarrely desolate space, Konrad heard a familiar insane laugh behind him. Turning around, he saw Spinal standing close to the edge with cutlass and shield in hand, laughing to himself. As he continued to cackle, a sound joined with his, causing Konrad to tremble furiously. It sounded like a voice, an impossibly deep, heavy, powerful baritone that rumbled through Konrad's own person and sounded like it had belonged to something outlandishly gargantuan, echoing into the wind._

 _Following the direction from where the laugh came, Konrad and the others turned around and stared into the empty void ahead of them._

 _Rising up to a titanic height was an enormous tan-colored gargoyle, a thing that looked like a man born from a bat with a pair of enormous leathery wings on its back and tusks that jutted out from its lower lip. On its powerfully built humanoid torso was a concave head with a strong pronounced chin, a short nose, a pair of long pointed ears and a receding forehead, giving it a vaguely tiger-like countenance. Staring down at the figures beneath him with its horrible yellow lantern-like eyes, the creature pointed at them in mockery and laughed._

 _To its left, another horror appeared, a massive ogre-like being with a club and a horned, split head with a pulsating brain. Its stomach horribly distended and bloated with gas, its skin rotting with exposed bone, the second obscenity joined its compatriots in its laughter, its cyclopean heads laughing and gurgling in conjunction with the others._

 _Clasping his hands to his ears to block out the cacophonous noise, Konrad watched as another horror appeared to the gargoyle's right, a massive humanoid creature with rotting skin, a featureless spiked studded ball for a head with long simian-like arms, one of them wrapped in chains and carrying a giant meat hook in its left hand. Vertebrate-like pieces of rusted metal jutted out from its back and a great spiked ring was wrapped around its torso._

 _Turning around to face Spinal, a fourth creature appeared, a towering humanoid figure with a mouthless, tentacled octopus-like face, numerous eyes and a pair of long mastodon-like tusks. At the sight of this newest apparition, Konrad opened his mouth to scream, but as he did so, the sound died down in his throat as it drew closer. Reaching out with its enormous hand, Konrad watched as it leaned in toward him._

* * *

When he finished, Jurgen stared at the Baron.

"I can see why you stayed up all night," he said flatly. "That sounds absolutely terrifying."

"It was," Konrad nodded. "And it still is when I think about it."

"Obviously your studies of the skeleton had influenced your dreams-"

"It's more than that," Konrad interrupted. "Do you suppose, Jurgen, that we were _meant_ to find Spinal?"

"What makes you say that, Herr Baron?"

He tapped his index finger on the monitor.

"I've been viewing some videos of the tournament," Konrad said. "Watching them, the one thing that struck me was how riled up the audiences were, how they all seemed to revel in it. That was when it occurred to me."

"What, Herr Baron?" Jurgen asked.

Konrad looked up at him.

"Have you ever heard of Dionysus?"

The butler shook his head.

"Dionysus," Konrad began, "was the Greek god of the grape-harvest, wine and wine-making."

"A deity after your own heart," Jurgen interjected.

Konrad grunted in acknowledgement before continuing on, "He was also, among other things, the god of theater, religious ecstasy, ritual madness and epiphany. For the Greeks, theater wasn't just some luxury - it was a ritual in honor of the deity. Suppose, Jurgen, that the reason why Spinal came to the arena was to hijack the tournament itself in order to make it into some kind of ritual? A violent ritual made for violent gods from other worlds, designed to further tether our own to theirs, or perhaps to put events into motion that in turn would allow for these beings to eventually come into our world?"

The butler quietly digested this.

"But if that's true," Jurgen said slowly, "why hadn't there been anymore chanting when you had Spinal fight Gupte's animal?"

"Because there wasn't any audience present to power up this engine," Konrad said.

"Does that mean you'll be cancelling the program?"

Konrad shook his head regretfully.

"I'm afraid we're well past that point, Jurgen," he replied. "The damage has been done. Not only has Spinal successfully activated...whatever this is, but thanks to the Internet and social media, this thing has become self-sustaining. Think about it, Jurgen - millions of people are watching the video and replaying it over and over again every day. They're practically powering it themselves!"

"So what are you going to do?" Jurgen asked fearfully.

"Isn't it obvious?" Konrad asked. "I'm going to beat them at their own game. I'm going to keep trying to destroy Spinal before its influence becomes even stronger. Somewhere out there _must_ be something that can kill this goddamn thing. I'm not going to wait around for the day to arrive when those powers that he's apart of shows up on our doorstep. I will find a way to end this madness."


	13. Chapter Twelve: Compromise

**Chapter Twelve: Compromise**

 **"The monster has descended upon us. The time we live in is full of horrors; there is no one upon whose head its heavy fist has not fallen...Everything around us has been changed...The air around us is laden with tears suppressed, forgotten, and to come. The gravity of this hour cries aloud."** \- Carl Jung

The next few months for Konrad became increasingly difficult as he attempted to find answers and salvation.

Acquiring the forbidden texts referenced by Coswell proved to be a serious undertaking in itself due to the amount of red tape he had to wade through, but with a little patience, his connections and careful payoffs, he was finally able to get his hands on the items.

The texts in question provided enormous insight into arcane worlds and dark hidden secrets.

He found illustrations and texts relating to all manner of horrors, including great Cthulhu and the door-faced monstrosity at the arena, but a lot of it was vague regarding this latter entity. Pages had been torn or wrecked beyond repair, making it near impossible to determine its exact nature and/or relation to Cthulhu. The few that remained, however, indicated that it was a living gateway of some sort, although its exact nature was frustratingly obscure. It's not even clear how the damned thing was summoned. As he read further, page by page, however, part of Konrad wondered if he had been better off not having acquired the books in the first place; every time he delved deeper into books such as the Necronomicon he came away increasingly frightened. Every text and page was a horrible window that allowed him to peer into the void beyond, showing him things that made him shiver uneasily and stay up late at night, pondering some dreadful truth that he saw.

The more he read, the more threatened he felt until he finally had enough and got rid of the damn things. Despite having done so, however, the way in which the Baron looked at the world was forever changed.

* * *

"We can't go on like this."

Konrad tiredly poured himself a cup of coffee while seated on his bed as Jurgen angrily glared at him.

"Are you listening, Herr Baron?!" the butler asked.

"Ja, Jurgen. I am," Konrad replied.

"So what are you going to do?!" Jurgen demanded. "The number of incidents are continuing to increase and the servants are getting nervous."

"I know."

"Is that all you can say?!"

"Well what else can I do, Jurgen?!" Konrad snapped. "That little shit won't die! Christ how I _tried_ , even to just get the goddamn thing to shut up!"

Every night, Spinal haunted the halls and tormented him, laughing all throughout the hours. After a week passed, Konrad snapped and took his frustration out on the skeleton, smashing it with his fists, beating it repeatedly with a wine bottle, yelling and screaming like a maniac for it to shut up but to no avail as it laughed in his face. Various attempts at destroying Spinal were a complete utter failure.

"Not even sulfuric acid can dissolve it." Konrad added bitterly.

"We also have to do something about Gupte's animal," the butler replied. "The last time it escaped it was a disaster."

The Baron winced at the mention of the most recent incident.

Two weeks ago RIPTOR had somehow managed to escape from both its cell and his castle, thereby allowing it to roam free, resulting in a frantic five hour pursuit across the countryside. Five personnel, six wolves and a slew of cattle and sheep had been killed before it was finally recaptured.

Taking a long drink from his cup, he wiped his mouth with the back of his clawed hand.

"I'll deal with it," Konrad said as he pushed his breakfast tray aside. "In fact, I'll do it right now."

"And how will you do that?" Jurgen asked. "We've already tried poisoning the animal."

"We did," the aristocrat nodded in acknowledgement as he got his cloak, scarf, gloves and hood on, "but I think it's time to fight fire with fire."

* * *

Konrad ran his thumb across the wheelchair's armrest in agitation as he sat before Ferris' cell. Dieter nervously glanced at him.

"I really don't like this, Baron," Dieter said quietly.

"Neither do I," Konrad replied before calling out. "Mr. Ferris! We need to talk!"

From the other side of the cell, he heard a hiss like steam being released from a valve.

 **"What do you want?"** the molten voice dripped scornfully.

"I need your help," the Baron admitted.

Ferris laughed, a horridly warped sound.

 **"My help again?"** he said. **"You really must be desperate."**

"You sound like you're enjoying it," Dieter said.

 **"Oh, I am!"** Ferris sneered. **"So what is it this time?"**

"I have two problems that need sorting out," Konrad said. "If you help get rid of them, I'll be in your debt. I'll do whatever you want. I'll give you anything you wish."

The chamber was quiet as the fiery effigy considered his words.

 **"How about,"** Ferris said slowly, **"your head on a stick?"**

Konrad took a while answering.

Dieter opened his mouth to retort when the Baron raised up a hand to silence him.

"Is that what you want?" Konrad asked.

 **"More than anything,"** the infernal voice seethed.

"Then you'll have it."

"Baron, this is crazy-"

Konrad cut off Dieter with a glare.

"If you accomplish your task, then my life, company, home and fortune are yours."

Ferris seemed to hesitate for a moment.

 **"You're serious,"** he said.

The Baron sighed, closing his eyes.

"I am." he conceded.

From behind the door came a low chuckle.

 **"Ohh, I love this!"** Ferris said.

Konrad could almost imagine him smiling, grinning from ear to ear with predatory anticipation based on his tone.

"Do we have a deal?" he asked.

After a few seconds of silence, Ferris spoke.

 **"Deal."**

The aristocrat nodded.

"Then it's settled," he said. "I'll just fill you in on the details."

* * *

By the time Konrad left, he heard the infernal entity chuckling to himself behind him.

 **"OHH HELL YES!"** Ferris laughed. " **I AM SOOO LOOKING FORWARD TO THIS!"**

Dieter leaned into Konrad.

"This has to be the worst idea you've ever had, Baron!" he harshly whispered.

"I know, Dieter," he replied. "But tonight, it will all be over."

Molten laughter followed after the duo, echoing in the hallway behind them.

* * *

When night came, the sky was a dark putrid green with thick clouds overhead, the moon a crimson orb that cast its light down on the land below. On the flat brick roof of one of the castle towers, Konrad patiently waited in his wheelchair as Dieter set up the camera on the tripod while a pair of yellow, bipedal tractor-like loader android units carefully raised the massive eight by nine foot heavy duty steel shipping container up the stairs before carefully setting it down forty feet away from his position with their forklift-like arms. Another pair of loader units carried up a similar container, this one lead-lined with a label on its side that said "Hazardous Materials", setting it down with a heavy thud once they reached the top.

"Careful, you fools, careful!" Konrad berated before muttering under his breath, "Bloody machines."

The Baron checked his watch. It was 12:30 A.M. He had given some of his guards some time off and had shut down cameras watching this part of the house in order to make this happen. He had less than three hours until the cameras came back on again. It was risky, but the aristocrat was desperate.

Konrad gestured to the labeled container.

"Open it." he ordered.

He watched as the loader units opened it up and backed away.

Stepping out from his prison, his feet causing the ground to sizzle with each step, Ferris emerged, basking in his newfound freedom.

 **"Finally!"** he said. **"Thought I'd never leave that shithole!"**

Looking up to the stars, the mercenary took in a deep breath, seemingly enjoying the openness.

Being locked up for so long must have weighed on him. Konrad himself knew that feeling all too well.

"You know what needs to be done," he spoke, stirring the fiery being from his own thoughts.

 **"I haven't forgotten,"** Ferris dripped scornfully.

Dieter looked worriedly over to him.

"Is the camera ready, Dieter?" The aristocrat asked.

"Ready, Baron."

Ferris stretched his arms and cracked his knuckles and neck.

Taking out the mask from his cloak's pocket, Konrad raised it up with one hand.

 **"So, are we doin' this, or what?"** Ferris asked. **"Where's this "Spinal" fella at?"**

The Baron said nothing as he concentrated.

From the ground, green flames erupted as a bony hand emerged.

 **"What the fuck?"** Ferris swore.

Konrad watched as Spinal configured himself before the startled mercenary, roaring challengingly in his direction upon its completion.

Concentrating, the aristocrat focused his will into the held artifact.

"Drop your weapons," he ordered.

Spinal stood there in noncompliance.

"I said drop your weapons!"

Giving a grunt, the skeleton reluctantly obeyed, setting shield and cutlass down by his feet.

"Now," Konrad said, "walk towards him."

Spinal turned to Dieter and started to step toward him.

"Not the cameraman," Konrad scolded. "Your opponent. Cinder."

The skeleton walked toward the fiery humanoid, each step marked by cracking knee joints.

"Stop."

Obeying, Spinal paused directly in front of Ferris, who then circled around it, studying it curiously.

 **"Huh,"** Ferris grunted. **"Not what I've been expecting. I thought you'd be bigger."**

"Would you hurry up already?!" Konrad demanded. "I want you to destroy it, not make friendly conversation with it!"

Cinder gave him a withering glare.

Looking back to the skeleton, he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck.

 **"Well,"** Cinder said, **"a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do."**

He cracked his knuckles.

 **"Don't take this personally, fella,"** he said. **"It's just business."**

The air around Cinder started to shimmer as his body's temperature rose to scorching levels, embers dancing off of his flaking body. Dieter nervously backed away with camera in hand while Spinal impassively watched, the light illuminating its ivory bones and its horrific smile, making the latter appear more sinister.

 **"INFERNO!"**

In that moment, a huge column of flame erupted from Cinder's hands, completely engulfing the skeleton as it gave a loud shriek. The column continued to move forward and grew, heading directly toward the Baron. Leaping away, Konrad barely had time to escape as he crashed to the floor, ducking down as it all washed over his wheelchair, the air around him oppressively hot. Once it died down, he glanced back to the spot where his wheelchair had been and saw nothing but the crumpled up, blackened remains and liquid metal. Following the fiery trail back to its source, Konrad narrowed his eyes angrily as Dieter hurriedly extinguished the flames.

"ARE YOU INSANE?!" he bellowed.

Cinder tossed his head back and laughed, his arms crossed.

 **"That was too much fun!"** he said. **"You should have seen yourself fly out from your chair like that!"**

"You could have killed me!"

The fiery being gave a mock pause and gasp.

 **"You're right, whatever was I thinking?"** he said sarcastically. **"Wouldn't that have been a tragedy?"**

Despite the fiery covering on his face, Konrad could still sense a wicked gleam and smirk in the way Cinder looked at him.

 **"Still,"** he continued, **"I got the job done. See for yourself."**

Pushing himself up to his feet and looking back to the spot where Spinal stood, Konrad saw nothing but a pile of ashes.

He waited for some indication that it was still "alive", something to suggest movement or possible recovery.

Nothing.

"I think he actually got it!" Dieter said excitedly.

Cinder scoffed.

 **"Of course I did!"** he retorted. **"Was there any doubt?"**

Glancing dubiously to the artifact in hand, Konrad studied it. Nothing indicated any sort of change, nor did he feel anything to suggest such phenomena.

"Given the tremendous difficulty in killing it, we had been inclined to think that it wouldn't have been possible," he said. "I suppose the rumors of it having survived Mount Vesuvius were untrue after all."

Casting his eyes over to Spinal's shield, the corners of Konrad's lip curled in disgust as the tentacles continued to squirm and writhe, the beady yellow eyes blinking.

"That said, however, why is that disgusting thing still alive?"

Dieter shrugged.

"Don't know, don't care," he replied. "As long as we don't touch it, there should be no problems."

Konrad grunted in acknowledgement before looking to the other shipping container.

"We just have one more beast to get rid of," he said before turning his attention to one of the loader androids. "Loader Two, open that container."

The machine obediently followed his voice commands as it waddled over.

"Is it a good idea, Baron?" Dieter asked nervously. "Why not just melt the container with it still inside?"

"I need to be certain, Dieter," the aristocrat replied. "Besides which, I don't want to lose a container. I still have use for it."

From inside the container came a growling hiss, drawing the attention of both men. The loader wasn't even within a foot of the thing.

 _'Damn it, I thought the tranquilizer would have lasted longer!'_ Konrad thought worriedly.

The container door flew open as RIPTOR smashed through and pounced on top of the loader, knocking it off its feet as it began to furiously bite and claw away at the machine. Snarling, the animal tore away vast chunks of metal, hoses and wires, spilling oil and coolant out onto the roof as it tried finding something edible. Gnawing on the forklift-like arm, RIPTOR pulled away, sniffed, flickered its tongue, snorted, then lifted up its leg and urinated all over it.

 **"Well,"** Cinder said, **"there's something you don't see every day."**

Hearing his voice, RIPTOR turned its snake-like head in his direction, staring directly at him, flickering its tongue.

"Mr. Ferris, if you please!" Konrad said as he slowly backed away.

Cinder hesitated.

 **"Do what?"**

The Baron gave an exasperated sigh.

"Kill it!" he demanded.

 **"What?!"** Cinder said.

"I said kill it!"

 **"No."**

Konrad blinked in incredulity.

"Excuse me?" he gaped.

 **"You didn't say anything about killing animals."** Cinder said pointedly.

"For fuck's sake, man, now is hardly the time to discuss this!" Konrad said.

 **"I don't kill animals."**

"We have an agreement."

 **"Yeah? Well, fuck you."**

Konrad's jaw dropped.

"Wha...You rob and kill people for a living! What difference does it make?!"

 **"Everything!"** Cinder retorted. **"Yeah, I've done some bad things. But I NEVER hurt animals."**

Konrad stared at him with disbelief.

"Of all the times to have a crisis of conscience," he muttered.

The animal glanced over at him, then looked back at the flaming mercenary, as if pondering which would be the more convenient and appetizing meal.

The Baron privately hoped that its reptilian brain was stupid enough to be drawn to Ferris' increased body temperature as opposed to his own.

RIPTOR glanced back to him, then opened its jaws hungrily.

Shit.

 _'So much for it being stupid,'_ he bitterly thought.

Konrad bolted towards Ferris without a second thought as the animal gave a terrifying roar, running toward him as fast as possible, startling the flaming entity. If Ferris wasn't going fight it, then Konrad will force him to retaliate.

 **"WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!"** Ferris yelled.

Behind him, the Baron could hear RIPTOR in hot pursuit, closing in behind him very quickly.

"RUN, BARON! RUN!" Dieter yelled from the side.

Konrad briefly paused as a fireball struck the ground ahead of him.

 **"I don't want to do this!"**

Looking over his shoulder, Konrad saw the animal catching up, then dashed forward.

 **"Please."** Cinder pled. **"Don't make me do this."**

Konrad was now only a few feet away.

Casting his head down regretfully, the fiery entity unleashed another massive column toward him.

 **"INFERNO!"**

Ducking away at the very last minute, Konrad's fur and cloak were nearly singed right off as it passed by. Konrad felt a tiny bit of satisfaction as he heard his pursuer shrieked in pain. Looking over his shoulder, he watched as the flame died down. Stumbling back, RIPTOR faltered and collapsed onto its side, trembling and whimpering. Ferris said nothing, his eyes cast down with his hands clenched into fists.

"Was that so hard?" The Baron muttered as he pushed himself off the ground. "Now, finish it."

Cinder narrowed his eyes angrily at him, then shook his head in refusal.

 **"Go to hell,"** he retorted.

Konrad's lip curled angrily.

"You agreed to the terms, Ferris," he said. "If you refuse-"

 **"What are you gonna do, lock me up? Tell the lab geeks to not stabilize my condition?"** Ferris then paused as he narrowed his eyes. **"Kill me?"**

"We had an agreement. You help get rid of my problems, and in return you get my head and my fortune along with further treatment."

Cinder stepped threateningly forward.

 **"I could have taken that from you anytime I wanted,"** he said lowly. **"Ever since you brought me here, all I thought about was killing you. Every night, every waking hour. Even now, I still want to."**

Konrad could feel his fury building, and tensed up as the temperature around him increased. He waited for the coming blow or outburst.

Nothing came.

 **"But,"** Cinder said **, "if I were to do that, I'd just be helping you anyway. Every time I help you, Baron, I lose something. I think I'll just play my selfish bastard card and give your offer the middle finger, that way I can save what little self-respect I have left."**

To his shock, the infernal creature started to walk back to his container.

 **"Lock it up and take me back to my cell, D."**

The bodyguard ordered one of the loaders to close it. As the container door was closing, Ferris gave Konrad one last look.

 **"See you around, butt-fucker."**

Before he disappeared in the container, the mercenary flipped him the bird with both hands.

Konrad growled as the loader carried the container away.

"Fine!" he snapped. "Dieter-"

"Leave me out of this."

Reeling around in surprise, Konrad saw the bodyguard giving him a cold disapproving glance. Looking back to the fallen animal, he gave a small growl of displeasure.

"Alright," he said, "I'll do it myself. Dieter, hand me your weapon!"

Taking his Beretta out from his coat, the bodyguard tossed it over to him. Konrad deftly caught it with one hand, then checked to make sure the safety was off and that there was ammunition. Once he was satisfied, the aristocrat slowly approached the wounded animal as it lay there on its side, wheezing painfully. Stopping just by its chest, Konrad carefully aimed the Beretta directly at its head, his finger on the trigger. As he noisily cocked the slide, RIPTOR raised its slit eye to meet his, its form seizing up and stiffening.

 _'Let's get this over with,'_ he thought to himself.

His index finger curled around the trigger, slowly applying pressure to it. He waited for the firearm to go off, for the muzzle flash to mercifully put an end to it, but as he continued making eye contact with the wounded beast before him, Konrad found himself unable to follow through.

 _'Come on, damn you!' Concentrate!'_ he berated himself mentally.

Konrad willed himself to perform the action, but his hand refused to obey.

What the hell was the matter with him?!

 _'It's a dangerous creature, a killer! A monster! It needs to be destroyed!'_ he reasoned.

He thought of the people that it had killed, how it destroyed the life and soul of his friend and bodyguard Roger. Roger, an inoffensive, if not slightly dull, man who had done nothing wrong to merit the wretched ending he ended up having. Memories flashed in Konrad's mind's eye of Roger's final moments with crystal clarity, how the bodyguard was locked up in a cell, his face a ruined and twisted serpentine travesty.

 _'Because of this creature, he died alone, with no friends, comfort or dignity. Roger needs to be avenged!'_

And yet, despite this reasoning, Konrad still couldn't get himself to pull the trigger.

If only the creature stopped looking at him like that!

Why the hell should he feel sorry for it?!

Given time it would regenerate and would continue to be a nuisance, an incredibly dangerous one at that! One whose existence can spell trouble for humanity!

"Baron?" Dieter called.

Konrad growled.

"What?!" he snapped.

"Why are you taking so long?"

"I'm going to do it, Dieter!" the aristocrat retorted. "Just give me a moment."

He aimed the weapon, pointing directly at its eye.

He tried to pull the trigger, but to his chagrin he still couldn't do it.

Damn it.

 _'If only it did something!'_ he thought.

If it had threateningly growled, snarled or tried to lash out at him, it would have been easy enough to pull the trigger. Hell, if it just bared its fangs at him, that could have been enough of a motivator and excuse.

But that wasn't how it was.

Lying on its side before him, the creature shivered, looking pitiably vulnerable and afraid. Its entire body was covered in third degree burns, its hide blackened and horrifically charred.

 _'It must be in agonizing pain,'_ he thought. Killing it would be an act of mercy.

 _'I'd be doing it a favor.'_

So why was he hesitating?

He'd be sparing it from immense suffering at the hands of his company, from those that would force untold horrors onto it and its brood.

Why shouldn't he kill it?

As Konrad continued making eye contact, the more his stomach tied itself into knots.

Despite the trouble it caused, despite the damage and deaths it had wrought, RIPTOR was _not_ a monster. It hadn't asked to be made the way it was, nor were its actions done out of malice. It was an animal, doing what any animal would do under the circumstances. An animal that in all likelihood was struggling with the changes to its body thanks to Konrad's monstrous genes. An animal that probably didn't _understand_ the changes to its body. An animal that was just trying to _survive_ , trying to get a good night's rest and make it to the next day without being afraid...

He couldn't bring himself to pull the trigger. Lowering the weapon, Konrad uttered a slew of curses under his breath.

"So what do we do now?"

The aristocrat quietly thought about it for a moment, then sighed.

"Call Gupte," he said finally. "Tell her to get some personnel up here armed with tranquilizers and that the animal is in need of medical attention."

As Dieter took out his cellphone, Konrad looked back to the wounded animal.

 _'I suppose one out of two is better than nothing,'_ he thought.

* * *

Once RIPTOR was removed from the roof, Konrad took in a deep breath and exhaled through his nostrils.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Dieter said in annoyance.

Konrad shook his head.

"I wouldn't say so," he replied. "With any luck, RIPTOR will succumb to its injuries and never bother anyone again. Plus, we did manage to finally get rid of Spinal."

Dieter opened his mouth to say something, but stopped and paled.

"Dieter?"

The bodyguard pointed to the spot behind him.

Turning around, Konrad's heart stopped as Spinal stood before him with shield and cutlass in hand, looking completely unscathed. Staring back at him, its eyes glowed a hellish shade of red, its perpetual grin painted orange by the moonlight as it lifted up its chin slightly, almost as if defiantly telling the aristocrat "You can't touch me."

"Impossible," Konrad breathed. "This-this is madness!"

Tossing its head back, Spinal laughed riotously, the sound drilling into Konrad's head.

"Shut up," he commanded.

The creature refused to obey, its maniacal cackling rising and falling in torturous cycles.

"SHUT UP!"

Spinal continued the obscene sound.

Running his hands along his scalp, Konrad approached the creature and started to bash it across the face with fists, unmindful of the artifact in his hand.

"SHUT UP! SHUT UP!" he shrieked between strikes. "SHUT UP, DAMN YOU!"

Teeth flew from Spinal's bony jaw as he continued pummeling into it, but no matter how many blows were struck, the creature persisted, not even stopping for even a second, not even minding the damage being done to its face.

It just kept laughing at his expense.

"WHY WON'T YOU DIE?!" Konrad howled. "WHAT DO YOU WANT?!"

He wanted it to stop, but no matter what he did, it would just go on, laughing at him.

As it became shriller, Konrad snapped and shoved the skeleton off the roof, watching as it disappeared over the edge, still laughing, not even caring about self-preservation as it crashed on some branches of a tree before splashing into the moat below.

Dieter shook his head.

"Even after all that..." he said in awe.

"Let's get it back to the attic as soon as possible," Konrad said. "Our hour is almost up."

* * *

"I take it that you were unsuccessful," Jurgen said as they entered the dining room.

Konrad's only response was to grab a bottle of wine from the table and guzzle straight down.

"For god's sake, Herr Baron!" the butler admonished as he snatched it away. "Don't be such a pig!"

The aristocrat grunted.

"Believe me, Jurgen, I needed it. Mein gott I needed it." he said as he wiped his mouth. "We're gonna need another replacement for the wheelchair. Ferris completely melted it."

"You should have listened to me."

"Ja, thank you, Jurgen!" Konrad said irritably as he turned toward the exit. "I don't need to be reminded how much of a complete fuckup I am! Now, if you'll excuse me, I want to be left alone for a while."

* * *

Konrad had just gotten out of the shower when his cellphone went off.

He stared witheringly at it.

 _'What now?_ ' he thought irritably. If it was another goddamn creature or incident, he was going to call it quits.

Taking it out from his pant pocket, he raised it to his ear.

"Hallo?"

"Baron, it's Rogers!"

His ears perked up.

"What is it?" he asked. "Did Ferris escape again?"

"Not at all, Baron. I have some great news for you - I think we have found a way to access the cell membrane of Homo Glacies!" the researcher said excitedly on the other end.

Konrad lifted his head.

"Really?" he said interestedly. "Are you sure?"

"Ja," Rogers answered.

"But how?"

"It was purely by accident," Rogers explained. "One of my personnel had been studying venom taken from Gupte's animal when he accidentally spilled some on a sample for Homo Glacies. We scolded him and were going to get rid of it when Patterson decided to check under the microscope. You aren't go to believe this, Herr Baron, but it's strong enough to dissolve the cell wall!"

Konrad stood there, his phone limp in his hands.

At long last, the final piece of the puzzle had been solved!

 _'Finally, some good news for a change,'_ he thought before speaking, "This is wonderful news, Herr Doctor. Wonderful!"

"I thought you'd approve," Rogers chuckled.

"Oh I do, I do!" Konrad said. "Have you deciphered the rest of Homo Glacies' genetic code yet?"

"Not yet, Baron," he said.

"Keep me informed every step of the way," the aristocrat ordered. "I don't want to miss anything."

"Yes sir."

Hanging up the phone, Konrad heaved a heavy sigh.

Despite the setbacks and failures, at least there was a small silver lining.


	14. Chapter Thirteen: The Birthday Surprise

**Song used: Tooth and Claw, Killer Cuts ( watch?v=zCAK3bwOGx0)  
**

 **Chapter Thirteen: The Birthday Surprise**

 **"God has given you one face, and you make yourself another." -** William Shakespeare, "Hamlet"

The day Konrad dreaded came. Looking into the mirror on his dresser, the Baron stared into his reflection and didn't bother turning around when Jurgen entered.

"Good morning, Herr Baron," the butler greeted.

Konrad didn't answer.

"Happy-"

"Don't even dare finish that sentence," Konrad said abruptly.

Jurgen quietly brought over his breakfast tray and put it beside him.

"I'm sorry, Herr Baron."

Konrad's gaze remained on the mirror in front of him.

"Fifty years," the aristocrat murmured as he shook his head with disbelief. "When I was a child, I considered that to be old. I once thought- well, kind of naively promised myself that I'd never grow old."

"We all have to grow up sometime, Herr Baron."

He leaned back in his chair, nodding in agreement.

"Too true, Jurgen. Too true. Hard to believe it's already here." He paused in reflection, then looked over at the butler. "You want to know the funny thing though, Jurgen?"

"What's that?"

"I don't really feel like I'm fifty." Konrad said frankly. "I swear it's like I'm twenty." He scoffed. "The benefits of being a werewolf."

"Nein, nein, that's not the reason at all. You're just tiptoeing into it, Herr Baron, so it's natural to not notice it at first," Jurgen said, then added under his breath, "although behaviorally you do act like a child."

"I heard that."

"I wasn't making it a secret." Jurgen said cheekily.

Konrad rolled his eyes.

"Just a reminder, Herr Baron," the butler said, "you have an appointment with Mr. Zhou for your physical therapy, plus you have-have to do some...filming at the studio."

Konrad waved him off.

"Ja, ja, I haven't forgotten," he replied. Standing up from his seat, he proceeded to put on his apparel before settling into his new wheelchair.

"I really wish you would reconsider it, Herr Baron," Jurgen said in disapproval.

The Baron said nothing as he put on his gloves.

"Why do you still want to go through with it?"

Konrad looked up at him.

"Will you be coming to see me perform?"

Jurgen was quiet for a moment.

"I would rather not," he said truthfully, "but...if you insist on this foolhardy exercise, then I must."

The aristocrat gave a dismissive snort.

"I just love your enthusiasm," he replied.

"I am not looking forward to this, Herr Baron."

"No one is forcing you to come." Konrad seethed.

"And no one is forcing you to dance like some damned trained monkey despite what you believe! You are the Chairman, for god's sake - you have the power to shut this down. You could put a stop to this if you really wanted to, but you don't! Why?!"

Making sure the scarf and glasses were secure, the Baron glanced over at the butler.

"Just watch the program, Jurgen," he said simply. "You'll find the answer in there. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have an appointment to get to."

* * *

Konrad collapsed onto the exercise mat, panting furiously.

"Come on, Baron. Just a hundred more push-ups to go!" His torturer said encouragingly.

"You do them," he replied. "I'm done."

Zhou frowned.

"Oh, you're just being a big baby. Come on, big fella, just a hundred more and you're finished."

Groaning, Konrad reluctantly lifted his arms, pressing his palms into the floor.

"As you wish, Satan," he grumbled, causing the trainer to smirk as he continued onward.

Once he finished, he dropped onto the floor, completely exhausted.

"Very good, Baron!" Zhou said with a smile.

The aristocrat tiredly raised up his hand and gave him the finger.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk, Baron, really!" Zhou scolded.

Konrad groaned.

"If you had my affliction and were forced to do two hundred push-ups each day, you'd be just as irritable," he grumbled.

The trainer laughed.

"Hardly," he said.

Lifting up his head, he glanced up at the man.

"How is it that you are always radiating glowing balls of optimism?" Konrad asked.

"When you have to fight your way out of a Thailand prison as I had, you learn to be patient and appreciate things more," Zhou said.

Konrad grunted.

"Touche," he said.

"Tell me, Baron," Zhou said, "is your condition as bad as you make it out to be?"

Konrad gave him a quizzical glance.

"Are you daft?"

The trainer shrugged.

"I was just wondering," he said. "It's not everyday someone of your height and weight can pull off the things you can do. Surely you yourself must have thought about it, maybe even liked certain aspects of your condition."

Konrad lied there, pondering to himself.

"I suppose..." he said slowly, "on some level...that is true."

He exhaled through his nostrils.

"But," he continued, "then I would think about what I've lost and long for."

Konrad pushed himself off the floor and headed to the shower.

"Believe me when I tell you, Mr. Zhou, that you're better off not knowing what it's like. At least you were able to win your freedom."

* * *

"You sure about doing this, boss?"

The Baron stared into the reflection of his makeup mirror.

"I have to, Dieter," he responded. "I promised the Board a show with a werewolf, and a werewolf is what they're going to get."

Jurgen said nothing.

Konrad nervously shifted in his seat.

"You don't have to be here for this," he said. "You can leave if you want to."

"I'd rather stay and watch," Jurgen replied.

There came a knock at the door.

"Ja?"

"Five minutes, Herr Baron," a voice said from the other side.

"Thank you, Dustin," Konrad called.

Once the assistant left, Konrad stood up from his wheelchair and peeled off his cloak, scarf and sunglasses.

Jurgen gave him a disapproving glance but continued to say nothing.

"Well," Konrad said as he started stretching himself, "it's show time."

Walking toward the door, he pulled it open and headed out, all the while followed by both Dieter and Jurgen. Crew members turned their heads in their direction as they made their way to the set, a steel octagonal cage with overhead lamps, watching them, their features empty and expressionless.

Konrad stared at them uneasily. He had worked with many of them countless times throughout the years, but ever since the incident with Spinal, they came back inexplicably changed. Though they looked and sounded as they had before the incident itself and had done nothing threatening, - at least, as far as he knew, - there was a strange alien quality that greatly unnerved him and made him shudder every time. He wasn't the only one to have this impression; Dieter and Jurgen were standing stiff, eying each and everyone of them with suspicion.

Dieter leaned in to Konrad's ear, not letting his eyes off them for a moment.

"Why did you have to bring these fuckers back to work?" he harshly whispered.

"Some of them are under contract," Konrad said quietly back, "plus they're offering services at reduced prices."

"I wouldn't work with this group for any amount of money. You should replace them as quickly as possible," Dieter said.

"Duly noted," Konrad said.

The bodyguard glanced at one of the cameramen, Phillips, and tilted his head in his direction, drawing the Baron's attention to him. "You heard about what happened to Phillips, Baron? His family left him. When he came back that night, he had scared the absolute hell out of them, so much so that the wife took the kids and just ran away with them to her mom's and filed for divorce. He's not even fighting it. Not even his own folks want anything to do with him."

Konrad drew in a sharp breath, then sighed.

"I've heard similar stories," he whispered back. "One or two families called demanding an explanation for the way they are, but my secretary and others dismissed it as being trauma from the "earthquake"."

The director approached the trio, a short man with a white cap, beard and sunglasses, dressed in a blue formal shirt and jeans.

"Beautiful work with the werewolf!" he murmured. "Where's the Baron?"

Dieter cleared his throat.

"He, ah, wanted to stay in his trailer. He has explicit instructions for everyone to not go in and disturb him," the bodyguard lied.

The director shook his head.

"Yeah, yeah," he said with a dismissive wave, then gestured to Konrad. "You, get in that cage, we're going to be shooting soon."

Nodding, the aristocrat quietly moved forward. Inside, a young fighter bounced around in readiness, stopping the moment he caught sight of Konrad and company. Opening the door to the cage, the former cast his glance around at the arena and at the crew, then stepped inside, closing it behind him. It had been so long since he fought in a cage, and now here he was.

 _'Dreams do come true.'_ Came the bitter thought.

He paused momentarily as he reflected his situation with black irony; for all his life, his greatest fear was his being locked up in a cage like his father. For most of his life, however, he spent it within the confines of his mansion, a luxurious cage, and now here he was, making his public debut...in another fucking cage. He privately wondered if God was laughing at his expense.

The fighter gave him a curious look and approached Konrad, circling around him, checking him out.

"Whoa!" the fighter cooed, impressed by the sight before him. "You look absolutely incredible!"

He then looked over at Dieter and Jurgen.

"Hey fellas, who made this?"

"A private contractor," Dieter called.

The fighter marveled at the creature.

"So lifelike!" he said as he reached out to touch him.

Konrad remained still as he poked him with a finger, then ran his hand along his fur.

"You guys, this is amazing! Whoever did this really should get a clap on the back!" the fighter said before deciding to reach up to touch Konrad's nose.

"Ahh ah ah! No touching!" Dieter called. "It's very sensitive equipment!"

The young man waved sheepishly.

"Sorry!" he said before turning back to face Konrad himself, raising his voice. "HEY BUDDY! ARE YOU OKAY IN THERE?"

Konrad nodded.

"THAT'S A REALLY COOL SUIT YOU GOT ON! WOULD YOU MIND IF I PUT IT ON AFTER WE FINISH THE SHOOT?"

"I'm afraid that's not possible, Mr. Carlyle," Dieter called. "The suit is specifically made for the actor inside. Nobody else can wear it."

"Oh," he said disappointedly before looking back to Konrad. "MY NAME'S PATRICK! PATRICK CARLYLE! WHAT'S YOURS?"

"He can't speak in that thing! It'd be best if you don't talk to him. He's, uh, a method actor - whenever he takes a part he never stops what he's doing."

"One minute, people!" the director said over a megaphone. "Everyone take your places, please!"

Carlyle shrugged.

"WELL, GOOD LUCK!" he said.

After several minutes of waiting, the director sat down behind the camera.

"Killer instinct, Sabrewulf vs Carlyle, Take One," the clapper loader said as he snapped the clapperboard.

"ANNNNNNND...….ACTION!"

* * *

The film crew watched as the two fought, recording everything, taking numerous takes. Konrad played up the part of the beast with relish, snarling and growling as he slashed and snapped his jaws at his opponent, deliberately missing him with his teeth and claws. By the time the fight finished, Konrad ended the match by howling to the sky. On the sidelines, he saw Jurgen sadly watching him, staring at him. When the butler had enough, he turned around and left without saying a word, departing as Konrad continued to work.

* * *

"AND CUT!" The director said from behind the camera. "Very nice! We'll continue this tomorrow."

Carlyle wiped the sweat off his forehead.

"AWESOME WORK, DUDE!" he yelled to Konrad as he punched him in the shoulder. "THAT'S ONE HELL OF A PERFORMANCE! YOU DID A REALLY GOOD JOB, MAN! SEE YOU TOMORROW!"

Konrad nodded, then turned around to leave, heading back to his makeup room with Dieter.

* * *

When he opened the door, he saw Jurgen standing there facing the wall. Gesturing for Dieter to stay outside, he closed the door behind him and waited for some form of acknowledgement from his old friend.

"Well?" Konrad said. "What do you think, Jurgen?"

The butler made no response. Konrad went over to a nearby cabinet and took out a bottle of wine and poured himself a glass.

"Jurgen?"

Hearing his name, the figure stirred.

"Why do you care what I think, Herr Baron?" he said.

Once he finished pouring, Konrad sighed.

"Jurgen, please."

"It's sick, Herr Baron. Sick!" Jurgen said in disgust. "Not only are you debasing yourself... _killing_ yourself on the Internet and for people's entertainment, but the world is cheering you on as you do it!"

"Good!" Konrad retorted. "Then that means that the tournament's serving its purpose."

The moment those words left his mouth, the butler whipped around and scrutinized him.

"What do you mean by that?" He demanded. "What do you mean by "serving its purpose"? Why do you hold the tournament?!"

It took a long time for Konrad to find the proper words.

"Well?!"

Tossing his head back, he gulped down his drink and exhaled in exasperation, running his clawed hands through his hair before finally spilling it out.

"If a tree falls in the woods, no one will notice. I'm the tree," Konrad explained.

"What the hell does that mean?"

Konrad sighed as he began to pour another cup.

"If I die exposed, I will be considered a freak. An oddity to be puzzled over, dissected and studied for years to come by the media and scientists."

He paused, then set the bottle down.

"However," he continued, "if I were to die on camera, on film, that's different. I'd just be another dead monster. Fiction and civilization are built off of the shattered backs of fallen monsters, Jurgen. Fenrir, Jormungandr, Grendel, the Hydra, the Minotaur, Cerberus, the Chimera, Orochi, Frankenstein, Dracula, King Kong, Godzilla..."

He shrugged before taking another long gulp of his drink.

"A lot of famous company," he murmured as he wiped his mouth and chin.

"You shouldn't feel so proud of it!" Jurgen exclaimed in anger.

"I shouldn't, but what else can I do, Jurgen?" Konrad said, not bothering to look at him. "I am not a hero, I am a monster. Like those before me, I too will fall, destined to be slain by some knight, some hero. Before that time comes, however, monsters will have their day, onscreen and onscreen only."

"But you aren't just giving monsters their day - you are celebrating them!" Jurgen countered in outrage. "Valorizing them! Multiplying them! Marketing them! Those powers that brought Spinal into this world are growing, and the only thing you're doing is help pave the way for them by offering up your own sacrifice! You have not only embraced your status as a monster, Herr Baron, but you have also become the _father of monsters_!"

Konrad poured himself another glass.

"Maybe you're right, Jurgen," he said. "But what can I do? Spinal is winning. It'll only be a matter of time before his masters kick open the door. I'm old, Jurgen,...and I'm tired. I'm so very tired."

"And so you're just going give up now?! You're not going to fight this?! The only thing you're going to do is just going to sit there and drink?!" The butler retorted. "That's it?!"

The aristocrat's only response was to take another gulp.

Jurgen stared at him in repulsion.

"This is absolutely disgusting! As far as I'm concerned, Herr Baron, you are _worse_ than your father - at least he had enough sense to know not to flaunt his dirty laundry!"

The butler stormed angrily to the exit, causing the Baron to look up at him.

"Jurgen?"

He continued uninterrupted, ignoring him.

"Jurgen, wait!" Konrad called in terror. "Jurgen please!"

Grabbing hold of the handle, Jurgen looked over his shoulder. His eyes meeting his, the butler's gaze softened, then turned to sorrow.

"I'm sorry, Herr Baron," he said. "I have let you down. I wasn't able to keep that promise of finding a cure before your fiftieth birthday, and I hope you can forgive me."

"You don't have to apologise," Konrad said quietly.

Jurgen shook his head wearily.

"You and I have been friends and family for years, and I'd have done anything for you." he said before sighing. "But...I don't even know who you are anymore."

Konrad's eyes watered, his mouth parting. He tried to say something, anything, but he stopped, desperately doing everything humanly possible to refrain from bursting into tears.

Turning away toward the door, Jurgen's voice hardened, "If you plan on killing yourself, at least have the fucking decency to do it in private and not involve other people, let alone having them watch!"

With that, he whipped open the door and slammed it loudly against its frame behind him. Outside, Konrad heard a scuffle.

"Hey, what's going-"

"Get out of my way!" Jurgen snapped from the other side.

The bodyguard opened the door, turned around to watch the butler's departing form and stared, startled before turning the Baron himself.

"What's up with him?" Dieter asked. "What did you say to him?"

Konrad turned his back to the bodyguard.

"It's nothing," he said. "Let him be."

* * *

The ride home was quiet. Inside the limo, Konrad stared longingly outside. Opposite him, Dieter silently brushed his fedora.

"So what did you and Jurgen talk about?" he asked curiously.

Konrad didn't answer.

"Baron?"

The aristocrat leaned back in his seat.

"Must have been something big for him to just leave you like that and take a taxi."

"Leave it be, Dieter," Konrad said. "I just want to be left alone."

"Okay, okay, it's cool," Dieter replied.

The aristocrat continued staring out the window.

"I look forward to getting home," he murmured. "That way I can be by myself and I don't have to deal with people."

The bodyguard shifted uncomfortably.

"Is something wrong?"

Dieter cleared his throat.

"Ah, no, Baron," he said. "Nothing at all."

Lifting his head to face him, Konrad watched the bodyguard as he looked away.

"What did you do?"

* * *

He and Dieter had just barely gotten through the front door when they were suddenly bombarded with deafening shouting in the castle, startling the Baron in his seat.

"SURPRISE!"

Konrad stared in shock at what he saw. All around him were hundreds of people, various friends and colleagues, all of them wearing formal suits and dresses. Even David was there, smiling. From the kitchen, Jurgen rolled a table with a massive white cake toward him. As he did so, the people around them began to sing, their combined voices echoing off the castle walls.

 _"HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!_

 _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!_

 _HAPPY BIRTHDAY, DEAR BARON!_

 _HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO YOU!"_

When the chorus finished, the cake stopped in front of him with a candle lit.

"Blow out the candle, Herr Baron," Jurgen said.

Taking in a deep breath, Konrad blew as hard as he could. Once it was extinguished, people cheered and applauded.

"Well, Mr. Chairman, what do you think?" David said as he approached.

"I'm...I'm pretty overwhelmed by all this," he admitted. "Did you arrange all this, David?"

"Actually it was a collective effort, although it was Dieter who suggested this in the first place," Kellog replied.

Looking over to the bodyguard, Konrad glared.

"Did he, now?" he said.

"Since you have reached a major milestone in your life, we all thought why not, and so have decided to show our appreciation for you."

The Baron sat there speechless.

"Are you going to say anything?"

"I...I don't know what to say."

Everyone laughed as he sat there flustered.

"So earnest!" David said through his chuckles, patting Konrad on the shoulder. "I bet you can't wait to see the presents we got you, Baron!"

Beneath his hood, Konrad's ears perked, causing him to lift his head up curiously.

"Presents?"

"Indeed," he smiled. "You'll see after supper."

* * *

Konrad shifted uncomfortably in his seat as people clustered around the long table, laughing and chatting with one another. He wasn't use to this many people.

 _'Damn you, Dieter!'_ he bitterly thought. Damn him for doing this!

"Are you going to eat anything, Herr Baron?" A man seated to his left asked.

Konrad shook his head.

"I'm not hungry," he replied.

Taking a glass of wine and a small spoon from a servant's tray as she passed by, David turned around and tapped several times on the glass, causing everyone to quiet down.

"Quiet down, please! Quiet down!" he said. Once everyone settled, he continued, "Thank you."

He took in a deep breath.

"We are all gathered here to honor our dear friend, colleague, and employer, Baron Konrad Von Sabrewulf," he began.

 _'Oh fuck,'_ Konrad thought with dread. Here he goes with another of his long-winded speeches. _'Kill me now, God.'_

As David droned on and on about their history together, part of the aristocrat started to weep.

"Blaaah blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah," David said in Konrad's mind's eye.

 _'Yes, yes, keep talking, David,'_ Konrad thought acidly. It'll only be a matter of time before everyone falls asleep. Or decide to commit mass suicide. Personally he wouldn't mind seeing them all rise up as one to kill the speaker.

"Blah blah blah blah blah, blah blah blah."

How's your creepy kid, David? Did he kill someone yet? He did? Oh good.

The people around him laughed at something David said. Konrad gave a fake laugh, joining with them.

David raised his glass. Oh good, he must be finished.

"A toast to Baron Von Sabrewulf," he said. "May he finally overcome his illness and live another fifty years in peace and happiness."

"To the Baron and another fifty years for him!" Everyone cheered as they raised their glasses.

Beneath his scarf, Konrad frowned.

 _'What a cruel thing to say,'_ he thought.

Once they all finished drinking, they put their glasses down. David wiped his mouth with a handkerchief.

"Now, for our first present," he said, "it had been brought to my attention some time ago that our very own Baron is something of a musical genius."

Konrad looked up at him, startled as people murmured all around him.

Musical genius? What was he talking about?

Konrad puzzled over his words.

He hadn't written any songs for ages, nor had he made any of them known, especially not to other people. The only song he had played in front of anyone was-

Konrad's eyes widened in realization.

Surely that couldn't be it. Surely Dieter-

"Since this discovery," David continued, "a few of us decided to pool our efforts together in order to bring this little project to life, and now, ladies and gentlemen, we will all hear this song performed live for the first time."

As people applauded, Konrad sat stiffly in his wheelchair. He wanted to get away from them all, hide in the deepest part of his castle and die. He wanted them to stop what they were doing, to say something in protest to this.

 _'Damn you, Dieter,'_ he thought bitterly. Damn him to hell.

David looked directly at the Baron with a warm smile.

"I hope you love this, Baron, as it took considerable time and money to get everything arranged."

Konrad said nothing as Kellog moved to the side in order to make way for three men in tuxedos carrying two cellos and a violin as they entered the dining room.

"And now, ladies and gentlemen, without further adieu, may I present ' _Zahn Und Klaue',_ by Baron Von Sabrewulf. Mr. Beanland, Mr. Gordon, Mr. Norgate, if you please."

People clapped as the musicians took out their instruments.

"How very exciting, Herr Baron!" a middle-aged woman to his right said.

"Indeed." Konrad said, hiding his lack of enthusiasm.

Once the musicians finished getting ready, they settled in, then started to play the introductory notes.

Konrad was deathly still as the familiar notes of his work were played. Lowering his head in shame while everyone listened with rapt attention as it continued to build, the Baron could only watch as the tune flooded the room, slowly increasing in volume and intensity until the full range of his work was unleashed, a violent maelstrom that overwhelmed the listener. For three minutes, it played, mesmerizing its audience. When it finally ended, people applauded and cheered, much to Konrad's discomfort and embarrassment.

"Bravo! Bravo!"

"That was absolutely wonderful, Herr Baron!" the woman seated next to him said.

Konrad cleared his throat.

"Danke dir." he said.

"So, Baron," David said as he approached, "what did you think?"

The Baron nodded.

"It was wonderful," he said "Very good."

"I'm glad," David said as he took out a piece of paper from his coat and handed it to him.

"What's this?" Konrad asked.

"As a present to you, Baron, we got your work published and copyrighted."

The aristocrat sat there, completely speechless. David leaned forward and patted him on the shoulder.

"Happy Birthday, Baron."

* * *

Later that evening, Konrad sat at the table eating cake by himself, his scarf and hood pulled down in their entirety. Scooping up forkfuls of white icing, he munched loudly, pausing for momentary self-reflection.

Was he eating because he was hungry? Bored? Depressed?

He shrugged.

 _'Whatever,'_ he thought as he took another forkful. He had cake, and he was going to enjoy it. _'It seems awfully greedy of me to eat all this cake by myself, but what else am I going to do?'_

He snorted as he took more.

"I'm lonely." he admitted in between mouthfuls.

Dieter entered the dining room.

"So," he said, "did you like your surprise?"

Konrad took a glass of wine and swallowed.

"I did," he said. "But one thing, Dieter." He narrowed his eyes. "You had no right to make it public," he said in a hushed angry whisper. "That was _my_ work!"

"I just thought that it would cheer you up," the bodyguard said.

"I don't care what you thought, my privacy is to be respected! Do you understand?!"

Dieter was slow to respond.

"Yes, Baron."

Heaving a heavy sigh, Konrad waved him off.

"Just leave me alone, Dieter," he said wearily.

The bodyguard gave a slight nod, then turned to exit, stopping for a moment to look over his shoulder.

"Happy Birthday, Baron." he said.

"Hn." Konrad grunted.

Once Dieter left, he continued on with his cake in gloomy silence.

* * *

Jurgen stared at the cabinet in front of him.

 _'The time has come,'_ he thought sorrowfully.

For thirty-five years he had prayed countless times that this moment would never come to pass...but now he had to fulfill that promise he made to the Baron. Taking the key out from his pocket, the lock clicked as it was released. Opening it, he withdrew the burdensome item and took out a small box, the weight of the former now made even heavier by the knowledge of what he must do, his hands slick with sweat as he emptied the latter into his hand. Putting the box aside, he snapped open the side-by-side double barrel and carefully examined it. Once he was satisfied with the weapon's condition, the butler then inserted two cartridges inside while pocketing the rest, snapping the barrel back into place with an audible clack. Raising his left hand, Jurgen checked his watch.

12:45 am.

Everyone should be asleep by now, including the Baron, but he couldn't take any chances; he had to be very careful to make sure that his work wouldn't be interrupted.

Closing the gun cabinet, he went to the closet and found his father's sweater, a thick grey woolen thing that was old and worn with age. Feeling the material, the butler felt waves of nostalgia wash over him. He remembered the happy times with his father - how he told him stories as a boy while he had him seated on his knee in front of the fireplace. His first time hunting with him and the Baron. His first taste of beer with them, much to his mother's chagrin. Even memories of himself seated on his father's lap in the driver's seat, using the steering wheel. It was also the same sweater he wore that day when he had to perform his duty.

Jurgen sighed.

"Poor man," he said aloud.

That day had destroyed him; from that point on, Jurgen's father lost all the sparkle and life in his eyes. While he was able to put on a brave face for everyone's sake, including the Baron's, and did everything he could, Jurgen knew that something had died in the man and that he would never be the same again. Ever since that incident, he turned to the bottle and hid his grief with it before ultimately dying from liver failure.

Jurgen shook his head pitifully.

 _'I suppose that's why Herr Baron drinks so often,'_ he reflected. To punish himself for what happened to Jurgen's father, a man that he had looked up to. To find or maintain some sort of connection to him. To understand how he had felt. To keep reminding himself of him. Perhaps, even, to die as he had.

Kissing the sweater, Jurgen carefully wrapped it around the shotgun. Once the weapon was entirely concealed, the butler then made his way to the door and headed for Konrad's room.

* * *

A patch of yellow light flooded into the darkened room as Jurgen snuck in. Closing it slightly behind him, just enough to illuminate his surroundings and help him navigate, the butler made his way quietly to the Baron's bed, the weapon heavy in his hands.

* * *

 _1979_

 _Jurgen stopped as he heard his young master crying inside his room. Raising his hand, the butler knocked gently._

 _"Herr Baron?" he called._

 _He knocked a second time. When no answer came, he opened the door. Sitting on the bed with his back toward him, facing the opposite window, the teenager had his face lowered into his hands, sobbing furiously._

 _"What's wrong, Herr Baron?" Jurgen asked concernedly as he approached. "Why are you crying?"_

 _Konrad sniffled._

 _"I-I-I broke up with Mila." he said between sobs._

 _"Oh Herr Baron," Jurgen frowned, saddened and surprised by the news. "Why?"_

 _The youth shook his head._

 _"I don't-I don't want her to..." he said, sniffling. He lowered his eyes, shaking his head. "It's-it's not fair, Jurgen! It's just not fair!"_

 _Jurgen put a comforting hand on Konrad's shoulder as he wailed._

 _"It's okay, Herr Baron. It's okay. We'll find a cure for you in time. It's not the end of the world! You are still young! You have your whole life ahead of you!" Jurgen said encouragingly. "We'll find a cure."_

 _Taking in several deep breaths, Konrad raised up his head and wiped his eyes, then looked directly at the butler._

 _"I want you to promise me something, Jurgen," he said. "If I turn out just like my father or worse, I want you to kill me."_

 _Hearing those words froze the blood in Jurgen's veins._

 _"Don't say such things, Herr Baron. That will never happen."_

 _"Promise me!" Konrad pressed. "I don't want to end up in a cage like-like him. Promise me! I'm begging you, Jurgen - promise that that won't happen to me, that you'll kill me before that time comes!"_

 _Jurgen stared down, horrified by what he's hearing._

 _"If you truly care about me, Jurgen," Konrad said, "then you'd see to it that I'd never end up like my father."_

 _His lips tightened into a grim line. He had no choice._

 _"Alright, Herr Baron. I promise. I promise to...put you out of your misery...when the time comes," he said, struggling with the words._

 _The next thing he knew, Konrad stood up and hugged him, surprising the butler as he held on tight and wept._

* * *

Jurgen stood over the bed, looking down on Konrad's features as he slept and snored loudly. He shook his head his incredulously.

 _'Unbelievable,'_ he thought. How could anyone sleep and produce such a racket without waking themselves up? It sounded like there was a tractor in here.

Unwrapping the shotgun, the butler gently placed the sweater onto a sofa to the right of the bed, giving it a slight pat before straightening himself up. Stepping close to the foot of the bed, he lifted the weapon and aimed it directly at the Baron's head, staring down the barrel. Pulling the hammer back with his thumb, his index finger traced along the trigger hair before curling around it, his breathing slow and measured while his heart raced a marathon, beating in his ears like a tribal drum. Sweat greased both palms of his hands and his forehead as he stared down the barrel, standing over the sleeping Baron.

Exhaling nervously, he lowered the weapon.

 _'Wait a moment, Herr Baron,'_ Jurgen thought.

He wasn't ready yet. He needed to steady his nerves and find the proper mindset for this.

Turning to a cabinet nearby, Jurgen opened it up and rummaged around quietly, opening up drawer after drawer until finally he found what he was looking for - a bottle of red Riesling wine with two glasses. The butler quietly shook his head.

 _'Typical,'_ he scoffed mentally. The Baron could always be counted on to be hiding wine somewhere.

Taking a glass, he opened the bottle and poured himself a drink, stopping when he thought he detected movement. Turning briskly to the doorway, the butler waited with baited breath before turning back to face the Baron.

Was he awake?

His heart raced even faster as he watched the Baron. When the Baron snored, the butler released his breath.

 _'Thank God,'_ he thought. If the Baron had woken up, Jurgen wouldn't have been able to go through with it.

Pouring the rest of the bottle into the glass, the butler put the cork back in and placed the former away, then turned to the sleeping figure.

"I had hoped that I'd never have to do this," he said aloud.

The figure snored in reply.

"Even though you can be an enormous pain in the ass," Jurgen began, "...I have always cared about you. I've always thought of you as a little brother."

The butler leaned back against the cabinet with a weary sigh.

"You once claimed that I was jealous of you," he said.

Konrad snored.

"I suppose there might have been a _tiny_ bit of truth in that," Jurgen shrugged. "I never told you this...but there was a time, Herr Baron, when I...I absolutely hated you."

No acknowledgement was made.

"Surprising, I know, but..." the butler struggled with finding the words. Then it all came pouring out. "...I was sick of it. I hated you for what you were. What you _are_. I hated you for what your father had done to mine. I hated the fact that my family were chained to yours and had to deal with your shit."

He took a sip from his cup.

"There was a time when I was going to walk out on all this," Jurgen admitted. "Walk out on _you,_ without ever saying goodbye. It was when the change to your legs was starting to occur. You were groaning in pain and were shitting the bed, and when I tried cleaning up...I swear, it was as if you were trying to deliberately make more of a fucking mess. You'd be screaming for Tylenol or something to manage your pain, and when I wasn't quick enough to get it, you'd just use every insult in the book or throw things at me."

He shook his head wearily.

"Then one day, I just had enough. I got a suitcase and started packing all my things in. I didn't care where I went, just as long as I got away from you, otherwise I would have gone insane."

Jurgen glanced over to Konrad.

"Do you know why I stayed?" Sighing, he continued, "Because my mother couldn't bear the thought of leaving you on your own. Christ, how I tried reasoning with her! I begged and pleaded for her to come with me, but no matter what I said she wouldn't leave. She was so...stubborn. She wanted to stay and help you. I asked her, "Why? Why would you want to stay with him?! He's a selfish little bastard whose family has caused nothing but trouble for us! His mind and body will rot away like his fucking father, so why stay around to watch a repeat of that horrible day?!" You know what she said?"

He took a long gulp.

"She said that she pitied you, that you needed someone by your side. Despite their wealth, the Sabrewulf family, in her eyes, were the loneliest people on the planet, and not out of choice. They _needed_ someone to care about them, to help them, someone to depend on. Nobody knew the harsh truth of their existence. "Certainly," my mother said, "there are people out there who have far, far less and are more deserving,...but everyone needs someone regardless. Everyone is entitled to a good night's sleep. Everyone deserves some...dignity and hope." She said that the most loving thing a person can do is to be there for someone, whether they want it or not."

Jurgen was still for a few minutes, then took another drink.

"After she said that, I felt like a total ass. I was completely ashamed of what I was doing."

He gave a small smile.

"Do you want to know the incredible thing, though? She wasn't upset over what I said or felt. Being a servant to a Sabrewulf was a heavy burden and would be filled with challenges. It's not a path suited for everyone, and my mother didn't begrudge anyone for not wanting to be a part of it. Not my aunts. Not my uncles..."

Jurgen stared down into his glass.

"Do what you feel is right," he said. "Those were her last words to me before she died."

He wiped his eyes.

"It took a long time for me to decide...but when she was gone, I...I realized...that...in spite of everything, …..all I had left in this world was you. And now...here we are."

Looking to Konrad's sleeping form, Jurgen held up his glass to him.

"To all the good times we had together, Herr Baron," he said before downing his drink. Once he finished, the butler put his glass onto the cabinet behind him, straightened himself up.

Exhaling through his nostrils, he nodded to himself. He felt much better now. His mind was clear and his nerves were steady. All that was left was to put the Baron to rest. Jurgen quietly stepped toward the Baron with weapon in hand, inching closer and closer until finally he loomed directly over the aristocrat himself. Raising up the shotgun, he aimed the barrel directly over Konrad's head. Pulling his thumb back on the hammer, his index finger settling on the trigger piece, Jurgen steadied his breathing.

"Auf Wiedersehn, alter Freund," he whispered as a tear ran down his cheek, his finger tightening around the trigger.

At that moment, the door crashed open.

"BARON!"

Jurgen heard several loud cracks and felt a sharp pain that lasted only a second, then nothing.

* * *

Konrad stared wide-eyed with shock as the lights came on and illuminated the fallen form that lay bleeding by his bedside.

"No," he murmured as he flung aside the covers. "No, no, no, no."

Kneeling down, Konrad gently touched Jurgen's face, then looked up at the bodyguard.

"Dieter," he said in a quiet, tiny voice, his lower lip quivering, "what have you done?"

"He was going to kill you, Baron," Dieter said as he holstered his sidearm. "It was dark."

The aristocrat gently shook the still form.

"Jurgen? Jurgen?" he said quietly. "Are you okay? Please say something."

Tears dropped onto the dead man's face.

"Jurgen, please!" Konrad pled. "Please wake up! I need you! Please! Please."

Kneeling beside him, Dieter checked for a pulse. After a minute, the bodyguard frowned and shook his head.

"I'm sorry, Baron." he said.

Konrad carefully picked up the dead butler and hugged him, his left hand cradling the back of his head as he wept loudly and uncontrollably.

* * *

As Dieter watched the scene before him, a single thought crossed his mind. It was something that he had often wondered, something that he had meant to ask the Baron many times, but seeing it for himself was confirmation.

Werewolves _can_ cry.


	15. Epilogue

**Epilogue:**

 **"If I am the chief of sinners, I am the chief of sufferers, also." -** Robert Louis Stevenson, "The Strange Case of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde"

Five years had passed since that fateful day. With Jurgen gone, Konrad started to suffer severe bouts of depression and became increasingly withdrawn from everyone, Dieter especially, despite his best efforts to keep the Baron active and from sinking into a total blackhole. His mind seemed to be slipping away from him; there would be times where he would catch himself muttering something aloud without even realizing, sometimes forgetting certain details.

Even worse was the sheer crushing sense of isolation.

He felt alone in a way he never thought possible.

Konrad tried reaching out to someone, anyone. Part of him wanted to call a hotline, but Konrad was too proud and reluctant to do so. Once, he had attempted calling Mila's house, not knowing why.

Perhaps to apologise? Perhaps because he just wanted to hear a voice and craved human contact? To explain himself? That he had been thinking of her? Boredom? The truth was that Konrad himself was uncertain as to the actual reason. Perhaps there _was_ no reason behind it all.

When someone finally answered, he found himself unsure what to say. Muttering that he called the wrong number, Konrad hung up and sat there in his bedroom, staring blankly at the wall. On most occasions, he remained in bed, only getting up when he either needed to go to the bathroom or wanted to get something to eat or drink, both of which brought little enthusiasm to the aristocrat. It was only through Dieter's constant pushing that he was able to get anything done. Reluctantly pushing himself out from his bed and settling into his wheelchair, he put on his apparel with indifference. Not even bothering to check himself, he rolled himself out from his room, deciding to pay a visit to his increasingly growing menagerie of horrors.

* * *

In the dungeon, Konrad saw RIPTOR feasting on the remains of some animal, he couldn't tell what. Tearing a large chunk of flesh from its prey's ribcage, the beast paid him no mind as it hungrily consumed its meal.

* * *

In the freezer, he saw Glacius give him curious looks, purring and whistling in its native tongue as he passed by.

* * *

Peering into the upgraded containment chamber, he saw Cinder doing pushups as he was being monitored by scientists, his head and face entirely concealed within a metallic featureless mask, while parts of his emaciated and fiery body were armored with wires protruding from the arms. On his back between the shoulder blades, held in place by four screws was a constantly running turbine that helped decrease his temperature and maintain pressure. Glancing up to the Baron without even pausing, Cinder's fiery eyes narrowed disgustedly in his direction as he gave him the middle finger.

* * *

Drawing open the slots, Konrad peered into the tiny windows and saw his newest additions.

In one heavily reinforced cell was a massive figure, an eight foot tall hunchbacked being with crudely designed and awkwardly proportioned arms, hand and feet. Made from bronze with parts missing, it was held together by various vines, plant life and rocks, its left arm a massive vine-wrapped, sharp-faced boulder. A mishmash of styles, notably Akkadian, Mycenaean, and Archaic, the metal green from age, its head was an Archaic-styled sculpture that had three distinct faces with geometrically-patterned, zig-zagging beards on its chins, two of which had archaic smiles, while the third sculpted face in the middle was drawn into an angry wrathful expression with an open mouth. Kneeling on one knee, it sat unmoving from its position.

Taking out an emerald from his cloak, Konrad studied the jewel that had been embedded in its forehead, then glanced to the empty space from where it had been removed. To think something so small was capable of animating something so large and powerful as the golem was incredible to him. Without it, the thing was immobile.

Turning away from the golem, Konrad regarded the next creature, a being that he absolutely abhorred and feared far more than its neighbor.

A pale girl with long black hair sat in the center of its containment cell. Dressed in the tattered remnants of a red kimono that was held in place by a red obi sash around the waist and decorated with white lotus flower designs, she held within both hands a long naginata that had a red ribbon tied around the blade, staring at the floor in silence.

Konrad shuddered as he stared at the creature.

Even though she was the smallest within his gallery, only five-four in height, and was seemingly passive, he didn't allow himself for even a moment to fall for her deceptively frail appearance, for the last person that had was twisted into impossible and gruesome shapes. When she raised her eyes to meet his, Konrad slammed the slot shut instantly and fled, his fur standing on end.

* * *

Peering down from a catwalk that overlooked a surgical amphitheater, Konrad saw clusters of doctors and researchers surround a single subject. Strapped to a table was a sleek though imposing mechanical figure; while nowhere near as large as either the golem or RIPTOR, it was tall, about six-five in height and weighed over five hundred and sixty pounds. Grey in color with ball-joint limbs, it had a featureless faceplate with a skull-like head and an orange pony tail at the top. Snaking out from beneath its cheeks on both sides of its "face" were two pairs of cables that looped out, one pair connecting to the back of its head while another looped around its shoulders. On its robust arms were a pair of curved, scythe-like blades.

"Testing in three...two...one," a researcher counted down before typing into a nearby monitor.

The lenses flickered on. Staring up at him with hellishly slanted glowing red eyes that formed a perpetually drawn angry death glare, its body outlined by the blue hues of its superheated plasma blades, Konrad shuddered as he witnessed the birth of Fulgore. With the harsh chiaroscuro lighting and the way in which hues illuminated parts of its body, it looked almost like an angel of death that had been granted physical form.

Troubled by how it seemed to watch him, Konrad quickly turned away, rolling along the catwalk.

* * *

As he tirelessly maneuvered around the mansion, he looked to the ceiling.

 _'What have I done wrong?'_ he thought bitterly.

Hadn't he done everything he could to be a better person? Hadn't he tried being a good person? Why was he being punished? What kind of a bastard was he in life to suffer the way he has to?

Things were going so terribly wrong, and at the same time, so terribly right. Letting out a weary sigh, Konrad rolled down a corridor, pondering to himself.

* * *

Later, he found himself lying face first on the sofa in his private den, watching television. Reaching out with his remote control, he flicked indifferently through the channels, uncaring for whatever was shown on screen before stopping as an advert caught his attention.

"Available for your home for $19.95, "Killer Instinct" uncut and uncensored!" a voice boomed.

He impassively watched the commercial as it showcased various fights with voice-over commentary. Flicking it off, he pushed himself up and moved to his messy desk, staring at the various cluttered toys and posters of varying sizes, his eyes narrowing at the title and tagline of the latter.

"Coming soon: "Killer Instinct". Monsters will have their day."

Clenching his fists, he swatted the toys away with a frustrated yell before collapsing into his wheelchair, cupping his head into his hands. As if in reply, a laugh echoed from upstairs.

Looking to the ceiling, Konrad's lips curled angrily. Leaving the room, the aristocrat rolled through the mansion aimlessly until finally he decided on a little visit.

* * *

It struggled to get loose from its bindings.

Staring with hate and loathing, Konrad regarded the little shit.

"It's over, you bastard," the former muttered. "Get your own errand boy to do your masters' bidding. I'm finished."

The skeleton tilted its head, its glowing red eyes watching him. Looking away, Konrad glanced to the ceiling.

That will due.

Climbing onto his wheelchair, he then tossed up a long cord of rope over a wooden beam, then grabbed the other end and tied it into a knot. Testing it, he checked to make sure it was taut and secure. Once he felt certain that it would hold, the Baron began to tie the rest around his neck. He was tired of living, and he would be damned if he stayed around for another minute. He didn't care what happened to his estate or the company. He didn't even care anymore about the creatures in his house.

 _'They can all go to hell,'_ he thought with loathing.

After thirty-five years of struggling and worrying, it will all come to an end, and he looked forward to it.

 _'Nobody will care,'_ he thought grimly. Not Dieter. Not David. Especially not Mila.

What was there to live for?

For every attempt made to find a cure, for every artifact discovered, it results disaster, in a new monster being brought into the fold. He was tired of being the sheepdog to whatever shit joke the universe has in store.

Once he finished tying, Konrad waited, sighing.

 _'This is it!'_ he thought. End of the line.

With that in mind, Konrad kicked the wheelchair out from underneath him, then felt the rope jerk tightly around his throat. He gagged as his throat constricted, his lungs burning as he struggled to breathe.

 _'Just a little bit longer! Just a little bit longer!'_ he thought determinedly. His vision was starting to fade and lose focus.

Almost there!

As his vision darkened, Konrad allowed himself to smile for the first time in ages.

He was starting to feel happy, the happiest he had been in a long time.

 _'It will be all over soon,'_ he thought assuredly.

He didn't care whether he went to heaven or not - he just wanted to be free!

Seconds counted by as his eyes bugged out from their sockets.

After thirty-five years of suffering, Konrad will finally come to a merciful end.

Almost-

An audible snap interrupted Konrad's thoughts as he painfully crashed to the floor, causing Spinal to howl uproariously with laughter. Pushing himself up with a groan, the Baron examined the rope, wondering what the hell happened, then found his answer.

 _'Figures,'_ he thought as he chucked the pieces aside. The rope had snapped underneath his heavy weight.

 _'Well what else did you expect to happen when you're as fat as a fucking pig?!'_ he self-admonished.

Even when it came to killing himself, Konrad was a fuckup.

"Baron! Are you okay?" he heard Dieter call from below.

Konrad shook his head with a frown. Shit.

"Ja, I'm fine!" he called back.

Creaking up the ladder, the bodyguard pulled himself up.

"Are you hurt?! What happened?"

Konrad waved him away.

"It's fine, mein freund, it's fine," he assured. "I just tripped on some damn toy. Go back down, I'll meet you there in a second."

"Are you sure?"

"Ja, ja."

Once Dieter was gone, Konrad sat still for a moment. It would seem fate didn't want him to die today. Picking himself off the floor, Konrad dusted himself off and made his descent back down, dreading what tomorrow would bring.

 _ **"The gods have many shapes.**_

 _ **The gods bring many things to their accomplishment.**_

 _ **And what was most expected has not been accomplished.**_

 _ **But god has found his way for what no man expected.**_

 _ **So ends this story."**_ \- Euripides, "The Bacchae"


End file.
